Together Apart
by icyglass431
Summary: World War 2. The deadliest conflict in human history. In the middle of all of it: Peter and Lilian, trying to maintain a marriage while being apart. *NEW CHAPTER ONLINE*
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So here I am again, with the continuation story of "All Is Fair in Love and War". We make a small leap in time to a few weeks before the outbreak of World War 2 and follow Newkirk and Lilian's life through the deadliest conflict in human history. There will be multiple minor or major time leaps to have the whole war in one story. And now, enjoy reading!**

 **10.04.2019: I changed the description from "Newkirk" to "Peter". Abracadebra brought my attention to the fact that in a civilian setting, one would rather describe him with his first name than with his last name. As soon as we hit a military setting, I will switch back to "Newkirk". I think this will help to show the change of situation; that Peter is no longer in a loving domestic environment, but in the hierarchically structured environment of the military. If you have a problem with that, please let me know.**

* * *

" _ **Never think that war, no matter how necessary, nor how justified, is not a crime" – Ernest Hemingway**_

 _August 1939_

Peter woke up with the first rays of dawn cracking through the shutters. His mind always needed a few seconds before it was fully awake and ready for the new day. He turned around on his left side and saw how his wife was still sleeping peacefully on her back. Peter had to smile. Yesterday they had celebrated their first wedding anniversary at a small restaurant and later some physical affection. He loved to wake up before Lilian, just to watch her sleeping for a few moments before his desire to touch and kiss her came over him. After one year of marriage he found that there was nothing more divine and beautiful than having Lilian curled up beside him, her long chestnut brown hair spread all around them and listening to her breathing. And every morning when he watched her in this peaceful state, he thanked God that he was the lucky fellow Lilian chose to be her partner.

Peter moved closer to Lilian and propped himself up on one elbow, stroking her bare arm that lay across her stomach with his free hand. He leaned in and gently placed his lips on hers, waking her up softly. He felt her body stirring against his and next she put her arms around his broad shoulders, pulling him closer to her.

They stayed in this position for quite some time, simply enjoying the feel of holding each other. Then they broke apart and a sleepy Lilian said, "Morning, darling"

"Good mornin', luv," answered Peter before he started nuzzling her neck.

Lilian softly moaned and placed her hand in his hair. She combed it with her fingers and giggled at his sweet attack. "We're very active today, aren't we?"

He retreated from her neck and looked her in the eyes, brushing some of her brown hair out of her face. "I can't 'elp it. Ya know, I 'ave this very attractive girl in me bed and not touchin' 'er is utter torture for me"

"Oh, well, I happen to know that there is an incredible handsome man in her bed too. And she can't keep her hands away from him," Lilian answered playfully.

Peter lowered his head again, his lips pecking at the outside of her ear. "Please, touch me. I won't stop ya"

Lilian pulled him even closer to her, only to push him on his back and pinning his hands above his head. She now lay partly on top of him as he moaned in pleasure at her sudden aggressiveness.

"Ooh, I like 'at," he said. "Don't stop now"

She rolled over on him completely and straddled him, never loosen the hold on his wrists. To tease him a bit, she began to slowly rock back and forth. "If you think you're up for it"

Peter groaned as he closed his eyes at her movement. "I'm always up for it, luv"

Lilian smiled and lowered her head to kiss him fully on the mouth, with that beginning their sensuous morning affections.

* * *

After a strengthening breakfast in response to their exhausting morning exercises, Lilian left their flat to go to a meeting at her workplace. School would start next week and since a nearby school had to close unexpectedly, Lilian's school had to incorporate all students which meant overcrowded classes. Now a plan was needed on how to provide good education for twice as many students with the same number of teachers as before.

Peter stayed at home and planned to enjoy a workfree day; neither his sister at the tailoring needed him, nor he had to perform at the Palladium. He brewed himself a cup of tea and settled down with the daily newspaper on the couch in the living room. But he had barely read the headline when he heard a knock on the door. Grumbling, Peter stood up and went to the door, ready to tell whoever it was that interrupted his free time to leave off.

He tore the door open but stopped in his tracks as he saw who was standing in front of him. "Samuel?" Peter asked perplexed. "What are ya doin' 'ere. I thought yer free weekend was next week?"

"Hey, Peter," Samuel greeted. "It is; duty starts in two hours. Can I come in? It's important"

Peter stepped aside at the pleading tone of his brother-in-law. "Sure, but Lilian isn't 'ere. She's at a meetin' with 'er colleagues"

Samuel entered the flat and led himself to the living room. "That's all right. I came to talk with you"

Peter retrieved another cup from the kitchen and sat beside Samuel. He poured him a cup of tea and asked, "Well, what can I do for ya? Ya sounded awfully worried at the door"

"I am," answered the man in front of him. "Do you know what the _Military Training Act_ is?"

Peter nodded. "Poor chaps 'ave to go through military trainin' because of ol' 'itler" He eyed his brother-in-law suspiciously. "But you didn't come to talk to me about an act 'at doesn't affect me. What is it?"

Samuel took a sip from his cup. "What I'll tell you now is strictly confidential. You can't talk about it with anyone, or else I'm going to be court-martialled. Do you understand?"

"Whoa, ya almost frightened me, Samuel," Peter laughed. "Now, what can be so important? Did ya come to tell me we're at war?" he joked.

But Samuel did not react like Peter thought he would. He simply looked at him with a serious expression on his face.

"Samuel?" Peter asked concerned.

"I only know this because my commanding officer is a close friend of the Chief of the Defence Staff. Only a handful of people know this, and it's only a fear, but a very real one" Samuel sighed, and then looked Peter directly in the eyes. "What Chamberlain tells the people is not true. He thinks his appeasement policy is working, but it's not. It's failing. We were never closer to war than right now. Since Hitler seized Czechoslovakia, we know that he doesn't stand to any of his agreements. It's only a matter of time before he'll attack us"

Now Peter is more confused than before. "And why do ya tell me 'at. Do ya want me to fly to Germany and tell 'im off or what?"

"Join up"

Peter needed a moment to regain his senses. He thought he had heard wrongly. "Are ya out of yer mind, Samuel? What a daft idea is this, mate?"

"Hear me out, Peter," Samuel pleaded.

"No, ya 'ear me out!" He jumped up from the couch. "If ya and yer friends are so sure about ol' 'itler goin' to war, then why do ya advise me to enlist? I would go to war much earlier than with conscription, which means a much 'igher chance to 'op the twig" Peter eyed him seriously. "Do ya want Lil to become a widow or what?"

Samuel rose from his seat. "Of course not! That's why I want you to enlist voluntarily" Confusion spread all over Peter's face. The two of them sat down again, and Samuel continued, "That's exactly what I want avoid"

"I…I don't understand," Peter said.

"Look, you might not now much about conscription. So listen to me. If you get drafted, there's a high chance you end up in infantry"

"So what?" Peter asked. "You're in infantry too"

"I know. And that's the reason why you must be in another military branch" Peter still did not understand what Samuel tried to say, which made him sigh. "Peter, the infantry has a high mortality rate. Much higher than, for example, the Air Force. If we're both in it, there's a tremendous risk Lilian loses us both. And I don't want her to have to put two gold stars in the window. Do you?"

"Of course not," said a baffled Peter. "I don't want 'er to put a gold star in the window at all"

"Well, I don't like the thought of being killed too, but that's what I signed up for when I joined the Army. And in case I get killed, I need to know that you are still there to protect her" Samuel looked him in the eyes. "Promise me you think about it. Please"

Peter glanced down at his slender hands. He played with his silver wedding ring on his left ring finger as he thought about everything Samuel said. Eventually, he slowly nodded. "All right. I think about it. But I can't promise ya anythin'"

Samuel sighed in relief. "That's all I wanted to hear" He looked at his watch and said, "Well, I need to go now, or else I'm late for duty"

Peter saw him to the door and when Samuel had left, he slowly walked back to the living room. He had to digest everything his brother-in-law had told him in the last few minutes.

But one thing he knew for sure.

His divine year with Lilian was over.


	2. Chapter 2

Peter sat back down on the couch and drove with his hand through his tousled black hair. He couldn't believe what he just heard. Or more precisely, he could not understand why it had to start all over again. During the last months, he had followed the news closely and every time that there was a report on Hitler and the current situation in continental Europe, Peter feared he might had to follow in his father's footsteps. Why again? Was the war his father fought in not the "war to end all wars"? So many lives taken away or damaged forever. He knew many men, mostly his father's friends, who still had a hard time coping with what they saw and endured. His mother once said that war changes everyone, even if one doesn't see the change. His father never talked about his time in the Army, and the only thing Peter knew was that his sister Mavis could only be born because his father was badly wounded during the Battle of Verdun. A shrapnel had hit his father near the heart which resulted in him getting a discharge from military duty. Since his father had been fighting when he was born, Peter saw him the first time when he was two years old. Up until that moment, he only knew about his father what his siblings and mother had told him. But when his father returned home, he was not like his siblings had described him. He was not a bad person, and he always did everything in his power to support his family and give them as much love as possible, but still, he was not the same anymore.

Peter sighed. And now, it happened again. Only that now the enemy was not the German emperor, but someone who thinks Germany was treated poorly by the other nations at the Treaty of Versailles [1]. And even though his father never talked about his experiences, Peter had heard enough stories of men lying in the trenches and watching how their friends were slaughtered. And he knew one thing for sure. He would not live through the same hell as his father did as an infantry man; not if he could prevent it. Samuel was right; he had a responsibility towards Lilian. He knew that going off to war always meant a risk to die, but he would do everything in his power to minimise the risk of dying.

Why now? He and Lilian were only married for one year. There were so many things he wanted to experience with her: starting a family, raising their children, growing old together. And if Samuel was right, there was a chance that he would not be there to do all those things with Lilian. And even if he would survive a war, who guaranteed him he would be able to pick up where he left off? He had witnessed as a child how many marriages broke up after the men came home. What if their marriage was not strong enough? Peter shook his head. That was something he definitely didn't want to think about.

Eventually, he stood up and went over to the chest of drawers in the living room to search for paper. He needed to get more information. Now. Peter wrote a note to Lilian that said he was making some errands and he laid it on the kitchen table. Then he put on his sweater and left their flat to head to the only place he thought he would get some help: the recruiting office in the City of London.

* * *

As Peter arrived at the recruiting office about thirty minutes later, he hesitated to go inside. He could not pinpoint what it was, but something held him back. Maybe it was his aversion to orders and authorities which made him never interested in the military. Maybe it was that if he went inside and actually considered joining the military, he would accept the threatening reality mankind was facing right now.

 _Come on! Don't be such a wet. Ya only gonna talk to these people to get some information. It doesn't mean ya join up right away,_ he thought. _Ya 'ave a responsibility towards Lil as 'er husband!_

Peter took a deep breath and opened the door. As he entered the office he was immediately greeted by all sorts of posters promoting to join the military; some said enlistment was a service to the country, some said it was to serve the King. Since there was no officer in the room at the moment, Peter took the time to look around. He passed some photos showing military parades when another enlistment poster caught his attention. It did not say anything about a service to the country, which was something Peter instantly liked. After all, the government or the people never did anything to help him; if anything, he had to live his whole life with negative expectations because of where he was born or his accent. No, this poster showed a soldier pointing at him, telling him to enlist because "there's a man's job to be done". Somehow, this simple statement hit a nerve in Peter because it captured exactly what he was thinking. For Peter, his potential military service had nothing to do with patriotism, but simply with the wish to have a more or less secure position in case Britain would be at war in the near future. And deep down inside him he liked the thought of doing something important that he could one day tell his children about.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I did not hear you coming in," he heard a voice saying. Peter turned around and saw a man with curly blonde hair, probably in his mid-thirties, dressed in a blue uniform. He walked over to him and reached out his hand. "My name is Flight Lieutenant Begum. What can I do for you, Sir?"

Peter shook the other man's hand and said, "Peter Newkirk. I thought about enlistin', but I'm not really sure about it"

"And now you want some more information," finished the Flight Lieutenant. Peter nodded, and Begum started smiling. "Then you came to the right place, Mr Newkirk. Why don't we sit down and talk without ruffle or excitement?"

He pointed to a desk on their left and Peter sat down across from him. He continued to look around and spotted booklets on the desk as well as a picture of the Flight Lieutenant standing in front of a plane.

"So, Mr Newkirk," began Begum when he sat down. "What's the reason you consider joining up?"

Peter started to play with his wedding ring again, as always when he was nervous. "Well, to be 'onest, because I 'ave a bad feelin' about this whole situation with Germany and in case of a war, I don't want to end up in the infantry" He looked up from his hands. " 'at's probably not what ya want to 'ear"

Begum gave him a compassionate smile. "You would not believe how many men came into this office because of the same reason during the last months. Personally, I think there is no wrong reason to enlist" He started to write down something on a notepad in front of him. "But before we continue, I want to put you on enquiry that there might be no war, and then you would have to stay in the military for as long as you enlisted, Mr Newkirk. Is that clear to you?"

"First, please call me Peter. 'Mr Newkirk' is only used when I'm in trouble" Then he said, "And I know, but 'at's why I'm 'ere. I want to learn more about military service"

"Alright, Peter. You said you don't want to end up in infantry. Any particular reason?"

"Me brother-in-law gave me 'at advice. 'e's in the Army and said there's a 'igher chance to die in an infantry regiment"

Begum took down some notes. "But you do know that you can be killed in the Air Force or Navy too, just to name two other branches?"

"Yes, I do, but I want to minimise the risk," Peter said as he looked down at his ring. "I probably sound like a coward compared to other men who come to ya, but –"

"You have a wife and you don't want her to lose you," interrupted Begum. When Peter nodded, he said, "You're not a coward, Peter. You simply want to protect your wife; that is completely normal and honourable. So, if you don't want to be in the Army, which branch is more attractive to you?"

"I'm not sure, but I tend to the Air Force," answered Peter. "I like the thought of bein' stationed 'ere in England, and therefore bein' able to see me wife on a leave"

Begum made notes, and then searched for some booklets on his desk. "I see. Do you have any experiences with flying or mechanics? Maybe aircraft navigation?"

Peter started to smile sheepishly and scratched his head. "Not really. I perform at the Palladium and durin' the day I often 'elp me sister with 'er tailorin'. Is experience with 'at a requirement?"

"Oh, no, definitely not. If it was, we wouldn't have an Air Force," laughed Begum. "It's just if you have experience with mechanics, for example, there's a high chance you'll be part of the ground crew. In your case, you will check out some workplaces that are a possibility for you and then we'll figure out what you like best," Begum explained. He handed Peter a booklet with different job positions and asked, "Say, how tall are you? And how much do you weigh?"

"I'm 5 foot 9 and weigh 166 pounds," answered Peter.

"Ever considered being a fighter pilot? You get a good pay and believe me, flying is great," beamed Begum.

"Well, what would I earn?" asked Peter interested. A good pay would be a convincing argument for him to join up, considering that the rent for the flat ate up almost everything of his current low pay he received from the Palladium. With a higher pay, he could send Lilian most of it so that she had no problems making ends meet.

"First of all, you would get 2 shillings a day during basic training. After being assigned to your squadron, you would earn 4 shillings per day which means 28 shillings per week. And you would get a small extra allowance since your married, so in the end you would get 30 shillings a week as a fighter pilot," explained Begum.

Peter's eyes lit up. 30 shillings a week! Now he usually earned only a third of the possible payment in the Air Force, depending on how many shows he did. As he seriously started to consider a career as a fighter pilot, Peter remembered in case of a war, that would mean eye-to-eye combat with the enemy. And when he would get hit, it would not be so easy to escape since he was in the air.

"Flight Lieutenant Begum," Peter said. "It's not as if I like the thought of bein' killed in combat. But purely 'ypothetical, what would 'appen if I get killed?"

Begum raised an eyebrow. That was a question he did not get asked very often, however with everything the man in front of him had revealed about his reasons for joining up, he was not completely surprised. "Well, at first your wife would get a telegram informing her about your death. A few days later she would get a letter from the department of combat casualties. In the letter, she is told about the monetary benefits she would receive until she gets married again, as well as the death insurance and any unpaid pay or allowance. And if possible, your body would be returned to England"

Peter only nodded and looked to the ground, letting what the Flight Lieutenant said sink in. Begum observed him and said, "But let's not talk about your hypothetical death. When I look over my notes, I see that we only need to talk about some formalities before I let you go to think about everything you heard and to talk with your wife. You should not make such an important decision that affects her life as well without her. Alright?"

"Sure," Peter answered.

"If you decide to enlist, you come to this office and I write down all the required information and send it down to headquarters. Your minimum term of service in peacetime is 3 years, and I will tell you when and where you need to report. There you will receive your uniform and then start with basic training. Phase one lasts about 9 weeks and is initial recruit training. Then you will move on to specialist training which will vary in length according to what path you chose to go. After your training, you will be assigned to a base and squadron. From experience, you mostly stay with that squadron for your time in service. After 3 years of service, there is the possibility of re-enlisting in the same position or maybe starting a career as an officer. Of course you can decide to end your service and ask for a discharge," illustrated Begum. "So, are there any questions left?"

Peter shook his head. "No. Ya answered all of me questions for now. Now I 'ave to think about everythin' and talk with me wife"

Begum rose from his seat and reached his hand out. "I hope I was able to convince you of a career in the military and maybe we see each other again"

Peter shook the Flight Lieutenant's hand and said, "Maybe we do"

Begum took a few booklets from his desk and handed them over to Peter. "In case you want to look something up"

Peter thanked Begum for the booklets and left the recruiting office. As he walked home he caught himself actually considering a military career for the first time in his life.

Oh boy, would that mean trouble at home.

* * *

 **A/N: I have no idea how recruiting or anything related with the military works since no one in my family volunteered for military service; only my uncles were in the** _ **Bundeswehr**_ **(German Army), but only because of** _ **Wehrpflicht**_ **(conscription). I researched the payment during World War 2, but did not found exact numbers, so I simply used the few numbers I found.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Here I am again! I know that it's been almost a year since I have abandoned this story, but now it's time to pick it up again. A lot of you guys have written me that they love the relationship I created between Newkirk and my OC Lilian, and that they greatly hope I would update it again. So the last few weeks, I began to feel myself into this universe again and wrote new chapters. I'm not promising regular updates, since I'm still kinda in my hiatus, but what do promise you is that there will be chapters coming again, and that I will not again abandon this story. Now that I have started again, I will bring this to the end. And with a year long break from Newkirk and Lilian, I have re-found my love for them again. Now ideas are popping into my head in countless numbers. I hope you will enjoy where this story is going to take you. But now, enough from me.**

* * *

" _ **Sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together."**_ ** _– Marilyn Monroe_**

By the time Lilian arrived back home after the meeting at her workplace, Peter had long since hid the booklets in the drawer after coming to the decision to join the Air Force. It was the only right thing for him to do to minimize the risk of being killed in case of a war against Germany; and even if there was no war (hopefully), he still earned a good amount of money for his three years of service that could come in handy in the future. Now he just needed to convince Lilian of his plan, which would be quite difficult. After the implementation of the Military Training Act about three months ago, Lilian had told him she hoped nothing would happen because she did not want him to be forced to join the military. She had said that worrying about her brother was already more than her nerves could handle, and she really could do without adding her husband to the list of persons to worry about. And he had promised her that the only way he was going to join the military was through conscription. Brilliant. That was going to be a fun evening.

Peter heard the door open and then the voice of his wife calling, "I'm home, darling!"

He stood up from the couch and followed Lilian into their small kitchen. As he stepped into the room, he saw her putting two brown paper bags on the counter. " 'ey, luv," he said.

Lilian swirled around, a tired smile circling around her lips. While unbuttoning her cardigan, she walked over to Peter and gave him a kiss. She then put the light green cardigan over the back of one of the kitchen chairs and said, "I'm sorry I'm home so late, but the meeting took ages! We just couldn't come to a solution. And then I had to buy some groceries and drop by Hannah to tell her what we came up with since she fell sick."

During her explanation, Peter had settled down by the kitchen table and lightened a cigarette. "It's fine, luv. What's the result of the meetin'?"

"We have to give morning and afternoon classes; otherwise we can't handle the number of students," Lilian answered while she began to put away the groceries she had bought. "But enough of me. How was your workfree day? I hope you had an enjoyable day."

"It was fine; nothin' interestin' 'appened," Peter lied. He still had no idea how to approach the dreaded subject.

As Lilian began with cooking dinner, Peter watched her moving around the kitchen while trying to figure out a way to tell her that he had decided to join the military, or more specifically, the Air Force. He knew that there was an argument lying ahead, and he looked not forward to it. But in the end, his decision to join up had a major impact on **their** life, not just on his. They would live most of the next years apart, only seeing each other occasionally. No more relaxed evenings spent together on the couch while being in each other's arms and listening to the radio. No more cuddling in the morning after waking up. Months of not hearing her laugh or simply listening to her talking about her day. And the worst thing of all: months of not being able to make love to his beautiful wife.

Completely wrapped up in his thoughts, time flew by. Peter's mind returned to reality when Lilian placed a plate on the table in front of him with the words, "Earth to Peter! Dinner's ready."

Peter looked up to her and smiled. "Thank ya, luv! It smells delicious." He grabbed the fork and immediately began to furl up the pasta around it. This was something he would dearly miss too; Lilian's exceptional cooking skills. Almost every evening for the past year, Lilian had cooked dishes that made his mouth water. No wonder that he had gained a few pounds during their first year of marriage. But her food was simply too good to miss!

Lilian sat down across from him and eyed her husband. "Is really everything alright, darling?" she asked concerned.

"Of course it is," Peter replied. "Why shouldn't it be?"

Lilian shrugged. "I don't know. You just seem so distant and thoughtful."

Peter took another forkful of the pasta. He had to tell her about his plan, and waiting any longer would not do any good. So he sighed and put down the fork. "Actually, there is somethin' on me mind, luv." He looked her in the eye and said, "I'm thinkin' about joinin' up."

Lilian's first reaction was shock. She did not answer, she did not move, she simply sat like a statue across from Peter. She heard a ringing sound in her ears and a knot forming in her stomach. All the while, Peter watched his wife's reaction and grew more and more nervous with every second she did not give a response. Ironically, he felt himself reminded of the day he had proposed to her.

"Lil, please say somethin'," Peter pleaded, not standing the silence.

"You…you what?" was all Lilian said after minutes of silence. "Why?"

"I'm thinkin' about joinin' the Air Force. Actually, I already decided 'at I want to join the RAF," Peter admitted.

That comment filled Lilian with anger. "Ah, so you never thought once about talking with me? About hearing my opinion? You just decided to join up?"

"Of course not!" Peter exclaimed. "I'm talkin' to ya now."

"After you already made your decision," Lilian huffed. "I'm your wife, Peter! Don't you think I deserve to be involved in the decision-making?"

"Ya are, kind of," Peter tried to defend himself. "I only started thinkin' about it today, and ya were not 'ere. So I 'aven't left ya out on purpose. I don't even 'ave, alright? I want to talk about it with ya now."

Although she was still angry about being presented with a fait accompli, Lilian decided it would be better to swallow her anger and have a constructive discussion about the whole matter. "What made you even consider joining up? May I remind you that it was you who proclaimed that you would only join the military through conscription since you hated following orders? And why today?"

Peter drove with his fingers through his tousled black hair. "Yer brother."

"What has Samuel to do with this?" Lilian asked confused.

" 'e showed up today. Talked to me about the whole situation with Germany and asked me to join up voluntarily to avoid the infantry in case of conscription. 'e said 'e didn't want ya to lose us both in case of a war," Peter explained.

"Goodness gracious!" Lilian exclaimed. "I know that the situation with Germany is not the best, but that doesn't mean we have to hit the panic button. And in case of a war, I could lose you both no matter if you are in the Army or the Air Force."

"Don't ya think I know 'at, Lil? I'm fully aware of the possible outcome if Samuel and I 'ave to go to war, but 'at's somethin' beyond me control." Peter rose to his feet and sat down on another chair right next to Lilian. He took her hands in his and gently rubbed across the back of them with his thumbs. "But what's in me control is to make sure 'at the risk of me dyin' is minimized. And the Air Force offers me exactly 'at chance. And if there is no war, I will earn a good amount of money for me service which we can save for the future."

He looked into Lilian's usually green-yellow eyes, which had lost every trace of yellow; like every time fear or sadness filled her body.

"But have you thought about what this will mean for us?" Lilian asked, her voice having lost its sharp tone. Instead her voice was much softer, which showed Peter that his wife was more concerned now than angry.

"I only do this for us," Peter announced. "Everythin' I do is to provide for us, to make sure ya live a life full of blossom. The kind of life ya deserve."

"Oh, Peter." Lilian moved forward and threw her arms around her husband's broad shoulders. "All I need is you by my side. Everything else doesn't matter."

Peter put his strong arms around Lillian's back and held her close. "And I want to stay by yer side. 'at's why I need to do this. For us. For our future."

Lilian disengaged herself from her husband's arms and placed her hand on his cheek. She saw the determination in his piercing green eyes and she knew that he had made up his mind without a chance to talk him out of it. A smile found its way on her face and she said, "I love you, Peter."

"I love ya too, Lil," Newkirk said and leant forward, placing his lips on hers.

When they eventually broke apart, Lilian suggested, "Why don't we finish dinner and then we talk further?"

* * *

After they had finished eating and cleaning, Lilian settled down on the couch with a wine glass in her hand and her feet on the seating furniture. As Peter went into the bedroom to retrieve the booklets, she called after him, "You've already been to the recruiting office? You really don't do things by halves, do you?"

"I needed enough information to make such a decision," Peter said when he returned to the living room. He sat down beside Lilian and handed her one of the booklets that pictured the different job opportunities in the RAF. Then he grabbed her feet and placed them on his lap before beginning to massage them. "There is a lot I can do in the RAF; it's not just flyin'."

While reading through the booklet, Lilian sipped at her wine glass. "I didn't know that the RAF offered such an amount of different jobs." She looked up from the paper in her hands and asked, "Already an idea what you want to do?"

Lilian was still not thrilled about her husband wanting to join up, but she knew that he only did it for them. For her. And therefore, she would be the supportive military wife and not complain any further about the situation.

"Not really; the officer from the recruitin' office said I would check out different things before I make the decision. But 'e did mention 'at I 'ave the right measurements for bein' a fighter pilot."

Lilian raised an eyebrow. "That sounds quite dangerous."

"I know." Peter sighed. " 'owever, I would earn 30 shillings per week. I could send ya most of it and maybe we even manage to save some for the future."

"I don't understand why you always have to think about money," Lilian said. "We're getting along well."

Peter continued to massage his wife's feet as he pointed out, "Yeah, 'at's because we 'ave yer payment; mine is completely used up for payin' the rent. What are we goin' to do when we 'ave children? Ya're not allowed to work when ya're expectin', and someone 'as to take care of the child after it's born." When he realized what he had said, he gazed at Lilian and asked unsure, "Ya do want to 'ave kids, don't ya?"

Lilian gave Peter one of her genuine smiles that he loved so much. "Of course I want to have children! But let's worry about that when it's the right time to do so."

"I just want to offer me family the best life possible," Peter admitted.

Lilian leant forward and squeezed his shoulder. "You are doing that, Peter. And you will do it in the future, don't you worry about that. Because all your family wants from you is that you give them your love; nothing else matters."

This comment elicited a smile from Peter and he moved forward to give his wife a peck on her lips.

Afterwards, she leant back against the couch's armrest and asked, "What else has the recruiting officer said?"

"The minimum time I would need to enlist is three years; 'at is if there is no war of course. I 'ave to go back and tell 'im I want to join up, and 'e will tell me where and when I 'ave to report. First I will undergo nine weeks of basic trainin', and then I will go over to the special trainin'. Then I will be assigned to a base and squadron; maybe it's nearby and I can come often 'ome on weekend passes. 'e said it's likely I will stay with the squadron for my whole duration of service. When me service is over, I can re-enlist, become an officer or ask for a discharge," Peter repeated everything Flight Lieutenant Begum had told him. He left out the part about what would happen if he died. He was happy enough Lilian was somehow at peace with him enlisting; no need to stir up fears.

"Three years is a long time," Lilian said.

"I know, luv. But I really want to do this."

"I've noticed that," Lilian announced. She gave him a soft smile and said, "I can't say I'm thrilled, but I'm okay with it. I understand your point of view and if you really want to do it, I will support you in any way I can."

"I'm sure about it, luv," Peter assured her. "The last time I was so sure about something, I asked you to marry me. And see how brilliantly this has worked out."

He gave her one of his mischievous smiles which made her start laughing. "You're an old charmer, do you know that?" she asked in between laughs.

"I've been called 'at on one or two occasions," he answered. "But never forget: I'm yer ol' charmer."

His statement made her even more laugh, and after moments of giggling Lilian managed to ask, "When are you planning to go to the recruiting office?"

"I think I will go there tomorrow mornin'," Peter replied. Lilian nodded, but did not say anything. "Ya want to join me? With 'at ya could talk to the recruitin' officer and ask 'im any questions ya 'ave."

"Sounds like a plan," Lilian declared.

* * *

When Peter and Lilian went to bed that night, she snuggled close to him and laid her head down on his chest. Peter had his arms circled around Lilian and held her close, but neither one could sleep. Their thoughts were always circling around Peter's enlistment and how it would change their lives. And Lilian had the feeling she would not shake this feeling of worry she already felt so soon; but she also knew she just had to come to terms with that.

After hours of thinking, her exhausted mind fell finally asleep. But it was a restless sleep, since she continued worrying even in her dreams. Oh, how Samuel would pay for that.


	4. Chapter 4

" _ **If there must be trouble, let it be in my days, that my child may have peace" – Thomas Paine**_

The next morning, after a breakfast that was mostly spent in silence, both wrapped up in their own thoughts, Lilian and Peter made their way to the recruiting office in town. Hand in hand they walked through the busy streets of London, watching how the people pursued their daily lives. It was then that Lilian fully realized what it would mean for her when Peter enlisted: she would need to live her life on her own, without him by her side if things went over her head. She had to learn again how to be alone, and she was not sure if she could do this after one year of marriage. And even if she could, did she want to live alone?

"When do you plan to tell your family and friends?" Lilian asked to stop the silence between them.

"I will tell me mates tonight when we meet in the pub. And I 'ad planned to tell me parents right after I enlisted."

"What's with your siblings?"

"I'm sure me parents will do the job for me durin' the Sunday lunch tomorrow." Peter looked at Lilian and saw her how usual soft features bore a harsh tenseness. He stopped walking and turned Lilian to face him, holding her small hands in his. "Luv, are ya really alright with me joinin' up?"

"I told you, I'm not thrilled but it's alright," Lilian said. "Why are you asking?"

"It just seems like ya are not as fine with it as ya say."

Lilian bid her bottom lip and sighed. "I just don't know if I'm okay with being alone. After one year of marriage, it's hard for me to imagine not having you by my side. To not fall asleep next to you. To not wake up next to you."

Peter let go of Lilian's hands and placed his right hand on her cheek. "I know 'at the next three years won't be the easiest ones, but it's in the best interest of our future. And our marriage will just be stronger, and our love will be deeper." He gave her grin. "Look at it from this perspective: the next three years, ya won't find dirty socks from me on the floor."

Lilian chuckled. "And don't forget underwear, pants, shirts. I basically find all of your clothing on the floor."

"Ya see, 'at's a pro." Peter leaned in and placed his pale lips on hers, driving with his tongue across her smooth lips. As he retreated from her sweet lips, Peter smiled and said, "Let's go and see what 'appens."

* * *

When the door opened, Flight Lieutenant Begum was surprised to see a woman entering the recruiting office. But when a familiar man entered right behind her, Begum couldn't help but grin.

"Good morning, Peter!" he called out as he rose to his feet. "I'm surprised to see you back so soon." Begum walked up to the couple and reached out to shake the woman's hand. "I presume you are Mrs. Newkirk?"

"I am," Lilian answered while he shook the unfamiliar man's hand.

"Lil, this is the recruitin' officer I told ya about."

"Flight Lieutenant Begum. A pleasure to meet you." Begum turned to Peter and said, "Since you're back, I assume you decided to enlist?"

" 'at's right. And I brought me wife with me in case questions come up."

Begum pointed to his desk. "Alright, let's sit down and make you a member of our fighting forces." He sat down behind his desk and Lilian and Peter sat down across from him. Then he retrieved a clip board from a file cabinet behind him and a pen from his breast pocket. "So, Peter, what kind of branch have you settled down for?"

"The Air Force," Peter replied.

"Good. First I need some basic information from you. Your name, birthday and birthplace, your blood type, your religion, and at last, your height and weight."

While Peter answered, Begum took notes in the provided columns. "Me name is Peter Newkirk, I was born on 29th April 1915 in Stepney, London. Me blood type is A positive and I'm part of the Church of England. As I 'ave told ya yesterday, I'm 5 foot 9 and weigh 166 pounds; and I don't think 'at 'as changed."

"Alright. Who are we to inform in case you are MIA or something similar?"

Peter glanced at Lilian and answered, "Of course me wife."

Begum looked up from his notes and asked with a smile on his face, "What's your name and address, Madam?"

"Lilian Newkirk. We live in 2 Musbury Street, Stepney, E1 0PG."

"So far so good." Begum directed his gaze at Peter. "I know I've told you that your job in the RAF will be decided after basic training, but is there something you are already interested in?"

Peter took Lilian's hand in his and squeezed it gently. "Fighter pilot sounds the most interestin' to me."

Begum nodded. "You definitely have the right measures for that." He went on to rummage through a pile of papers on the left side of his desk. When he finally found the right paper, he quickly scanned it before he looked up at the couple in front of him, a smile covering his face. "Seems like today is your lucky day, Peter. The training squadron in RAF Northolt has a free spot for a new recruit; by train, it's about one to one and a half hours from here."

" 'at sound marvellous!" Peter exclaimed, his eyes lighting up. "Ya think I could be stationed there?"

"Well, I don't know if you can be stationed there permanently, but definitely for the duration of your training, because I will place you there." Begum filled out the remaining space on the clipboard. Then he turned the clipboard around and held a pen out to Peter. "I need your signature on the bottom."

Peter looked at Lilian, who gave him one of her genuine smiles. He returned her smile and grabbed the pen from Begum, placing his signature on the paper in front of him. When he was finished, he handed the clipboard and pen back to Begum, who put his own signature next to Peter's.

"You are now an official member of His Majesty's Royal Air Force. You are expected to report at RAF Northolt on Saturday, 25th August, at exactly 1400 hours," Begum said. He took another piece of paper on which he filled out different blanks before putting his signature on the bottom. Then he folded the paper and put it in an envelope. Begum gave it to Peter with the words, "These are your orders. Show it to the guard at the gate; he will tell you anything else. At RAF Northolt, you will get your uniform and dog tags."

"Thank ya, Flight Lieutenant," Peter said.

Begum waved off. "No need to thank me. You are the one who signed up to serve king and country." He turned his attention to Lilian and asked, "Any questions on your mind, Madam?"

"What's about weekend leaves?" Lilian questioned. "When my brother had joined the army, he was stationed in Scotland; therefore, we couldn't see him during training."

"The first two to three weeks, there will be only weekend passes that require your husband to stay in the town. After that, it's the decision of his CO whether he grants Peter a weekend pass that allows him to travel to London."

Lilian nodded. "Okay."

"Any more questions, Madam?"

"No, that was all," Lilian replied.

"Alright." Begum rose to his feet, and Lilian and Peter followed him suit. Begum reached out and shook Peter's. "I'm happy to welcome you to the Royal Air Force. Our gallant motto is, "Per Ardua ad Astra", which means so much like, "Through Adversity to the Stars". But I hope for you it's not so much adversity and more stars."

Peter returned the handshake. "I 'ope 'at too! Thank ya once again, Flight Lieutenant Begum."

"You're welcome." Begum turned to Lilian and reached out for her hand. "And I wish you all the best for your future, Mrs. Newkirk."

"Thank you. I wish you all the best too."

Peter stuffed his orders in the inner pocket of his jacket and held the door open for Lilian. "Goodbye, Flight Lieutenant!" he called before leaving the recruiting office.

Outside the office, Peter offered Lilian his arm, and she tucked hers in. As they made their way back to Stepney to tell Peter's parents the news, he said, "What do ya say, luv? Yer 'usband's an airman now."

"I say you will give your parents the shock of their lives, _Aircraftman Newkirk_ ," Lilian said. She gave him a kiss on his cheek and added, "I'm proud of you, Peter."

"Why 'at?"

"It's brave to join the military; no matter the reason. And even though I will kill Samuel the next time I see him for talking you into this, I'm super proud of you."

Peter stared into Lilian's green eyes, a smirk slowly creeping on his face. " 'ave I told ya 'ow much I love ya?"

"On one or two occasions," Lilian answered. She shot Peter a playful grin and said, "But I don't mind you telling me again."

"I love ya, Lilian Newkirk. More than words can describe," Peter said as he let go of Lilian's arm and slipped his own around her waist, continuing their walk to his parents.

* * *

"Peter, me boy! What brings ya to us?" Mr. Newkirk asked while he led his son and daughter-in-law to the living room. "Do ya two want to inform us 'at ya won't be comin' tomorrow?"

"Na," Peter said as he sat down on his parents' couch with Lilian right beside him. "We wanted to tell ya and Ma somethin' else."

"Well, then it would be best if I get yer mother." Mr. Newkirk left the living room to fetch his wife, who was cleaning the kitchen.

In the meantime, Lilian whispered to Peter, "How do you plan to tell them? I'm sure that especially your mother will be shocked."

"To be 'onest, I 'ave absolutely no idea," Peter admitted. "I'm sure she won't be thrilled by the news; though not for the worst, but Da did change after 'e came back from the Great War. And I'm certain the situation with Germany won't make 'er like me decision one bit more."

Lilian stroked across Peter's back. "I think it's best if you are plain honest with them. No beating around the bush."

Peter nodded. "I think ya're right."

"I'm your wife, darling." Lilian smirked. "I'm always right."

Peter had to chuckle and leant in for a kiss. Lilian gave him a peck on his pale lips the moment her parents-in-law stepped into their living room.

"Peter!" Mrs. Newkirk exclaimed. She moved closer to them and gave Newkirk and Lilian a hug. "Yer father said ya wanted to tell us somethin'?" she asked while everyone settled down.

Peter grabbed Lilian's hand and gazed at his parents who sat across from his, his father in his easy chair and his mother on the armrest. He took a deep breath and announced, "I've joined the Air Force; I leave on Saturday for trainin' in Northolt."

After dropping the bomb, Peter was greeted with a stunned silence from his parents. They stared at him, a blank expression on their faces; both too shocked from the news their son had brought them.

The first one to react was Mrs. Newkirk. "Ya 'ave done what? Are ya crazy?"

"I enlisted," Peter repeated. "And I'm not barmy, Ma. I'm actin' rational and responsible."

"Ya call 'at "rational and responsible"? The whole country is preparin' for yet another war against Germany, and ya decide 'at's the best time to join up?" Mrs. Newkirk raged. However, it was not anger that spoke out of her; it was fear for her youngest son. Fear of losing him, fear of getting him back wounded, or worst, getting him back changed. Just like she got a different husband back after the Great War had ended.

"Now, Dorothy, don't be so 'arsh on the boy," Mr. Newkirk interrupted. He turned to Peter and said, "I'm proud of ya, son. It's very brave of ya to fight for yer country; especially in such troubled times."

"Thanks Da."

" 'ow are ya feelin', Lilian?" Mr. Newkirk wanted to know.

"I'm okay with it, William. Like you, I think Peter's incredible brave and I'm unbelievable proud of him. Of course, I'm already worried about him, just like I'm constantly worried about my brother. But that's just something I have to get used to," Lilian explained, squeezing Newkirk's hand slightly. "And I mean, we don't even know if there will be a war against Germany. Maybe we are all just over-reacting."

* * *

Peter and Lilian stayed for a while longer, the four of them talking further about Peter's enlistment. Around lunchtime, Peter and Lilian left for their own home to enjoy one of the remaining meals together alone.

As Mr. Newkirk showed his son and daughter-in-law, he smiled at them and assured them that his wife would be alright with the idea of Peter enlisting by tomorrow. He again assured his son how proud he was of him; then he watched them head for their home. As he looked after them, a thought raced through his mind.

 _Oh, Peter, me boy! Why does it 'ave to 'appen again? I thought me and me friends 'ave fought in the "war to end all wars", so 'at yer generation did not 'ave to endure the same._


	5. Chapter 5

" _ **You are my today and all of my tomorrows" – Leo Christopher**_

The rest of the week passed by rather quickly. Lilian and Peter used every free minute together, strolling through London or simply holding each other on the couch. While she was at work in the morning, Peter visited his friends and family to say goodbye. In the blink of an eye, it was Friday evening; the next day, Peter was supposed to leave for basic training.

Hand in hand, they walked home after a dinner at their favourite little restaurant located on a street corner nearby. All day, the atmosphere between them had been rather sad at the prospect of their soon to come separation. As usual, it was Peter who broke the silence.

"I will definitely miss our dinners at this place. The food's great and it's so cosy." He squeezed Lilian's hand and gave her a mischievous grin. "And ya always look smashin' when we go out. Makes it 'ard for me to keep me 'ands by meself until we're 'ome." Peter moved his mouth to her ear and whispered, "But to be 'onest, I can't keep me 'ands by meself no matter what ya wear."

He kissed her ear and Lilian had to laugh while moving her head away from his mouth. "So I have noticed." Her laughter died down and she said, "I can't believe that one week ago, we walked home from the restaurant too, celebrating our one-year wedding anniversary. And now we spend our last time out for who knows how long because you have joined the Air Force."

"Well, luv, life is unpredictable. Two years ago, we 'adn't even met." Peter slipped his arm around his wife's waist. "But let's not think about tomorrow. Let us enjoy this night like any other date night."

Lilian leaned into her husband's side and wrapped her arm around his back. "Alright. Then let's get home fast. I have a lot in mind for tonight." She slipped her hand down, lightly driving over Peter's sharply backside.

Peter jumped a little at Lilian's touch before grinning like a little boy. "Ya read me mind, luv. Let's get home."

* * *

When they arrived at home, Peter led Lilian into their living room. He helped her out of her cardigan and put it on the couch, then he took his own jacket of and laid it next to Lilian's. Peter moved closer to Lilian, wrapping his left arm around her back while placing his right hand on her cheek. He leaned forward and placed his lips on Lilian's, sealing their mouths in a long and deep kiss. He ran the tip of his tongue over her lips, making her moan. Peter used the chance and slipped his tongue into Lilian's mouth, dancing with her tongue. The kiss left them breathless, and as they broke apart, Peter's greyish-green eyes sparkled brightly.

"Do ya remember 'ow we danced at our weddin' reception?" he asked, gently driving with his thumb across her cheek.

Lilian smiled, her hands placed on his shoulder blades. "How could I forget? The memories of that moment are forever engraved in my heart, leaving no chance for it to slip away."

"Ya looked so beautiful in yer dress, and when I gazed into yer eyes, I could see our whole life together in them. And I knew 'at whatever is comin' our way, it won't be able to tear us apart because of the bond we created between us. A connection of our 'earts, beatin' together as one."

Lilian was touched by her husband's sweet words, feeling a big lump in her throat. She removed her right hand from Peter's back and placed it on his chest, right above his heart. "Just being in your strong arms gives me all the strength I need. When I put my head on your chest and I listen to your beating heart, I know that everything will be alright. Because I have you by my side."

Equally touched by his wife's words, Peter placed his lips once more on Lilian's lips. Then he stepped back and walked across the room, taking a record out of the shelf. Lilian watched her husband walking to the record player that had been a present from her parents to her sixteenth birthday, a broad smile on his face. Soon, the familiar voice of Fred Astaire rang through the room as he sung "Cheek to Cheek", the song to which Lilian and Peter shared their first dance as husband and wife together.

Peter went over to Lilian and held his hand out. "May I 'ave this dance?"

A smile circled around Lilian's lips while she placed her hand into her husband's. Peter pulled her closer and wrapped his right arm around her waist, holding her close. Lilian put her left hand on Peter's shoulder and gazed into his green eyes that she loved so much, slowly getting lost in them. They swayed in time with the music as they relished the memory of their wedding dance.

Peter moved his mouth to Lilian's ear and began to sing along. " 'eaven, I'm in 'eaven. And me 'eart beats so 'at I can 'ardly speak. And I seem to find the 'appiness I seek, when we're out together dancin', cheek to cheek." He gave her a kiss on the cheek. " 'eaven, I'm in 'eaven. And the cares 'at 'an' around me through the week seem to vanish like a gambler's lucky streak, when we're out together dancin', cheek to cheek."

He continued singing while they swayed through the living room, forgetting everything else around them. Only when the music stopped were they taken out of the memories of their wedding day, and Peter moved away from Lilian's ear. He looked down in her green eyes which sparkled in a bright yellow colour, and he kissed her cheek once more. Then he stepped away from her, never letting go of her hands, and gently pulled her towards their bedroom.

Lilian stopped as she said, "Go forth, darling. I'll come in a second."

Without waiting for Peter's response, she went to the bathroom. Before they had left the flat to go to the restaurant, Lilian had stashed a sweet surprise for her husband in their washroom. It was blue lace lingerie with a camisole on top in the same colour. She had bought it during the week for this moment to make their last night together more special. Lilian quickly changed out of her yellow dress and into the blue lingerie, dapping a bit of perfume on her neck and renewing her red lipstick. She went with her hands through her chestnut brown hair, and then she left the bathroom to head for the bedroom she shared with her husband for a little over a year now.

Peter had settled down on his side of the bed, leaning against the headboard while he waited for his wife to return. When Lilian stepped into the doorframe, he forgot to breathe for a second, caught up in her sheer beauty. Peter moved to stand up, but Lilian shook her head and motioned for him to stay reclined on the bed. Without his eyes leaving her body, Lilian slowly walked to his bedside and climbed on it, straddling her husband.

Peter immediately placed his hands on her hips and said, "Me beautiful angel."

Lilian undid his black tie and smirked. "I hope you like what you see."

"Yer beauty outshines every star in the sky." Peter slipped his hands on her backside and squeezed it tenderly. "What 'ave I done to deserve ya?"

Lilian put her index finger on his mouth and whispered, "Shh, don't speak."

She replaced her finger with her lips, sealing her husband's mouth in a deep kiss, with that starting their night of passion.

* * *

The next morning, Peter was awakened by the aroma of bacon in the air. He yawned and rubbed his eyes to wake up, then he reached out to his wife's bedside, but instead of feeling her body, his hand landed on the cold bedsheet. As he fully opened his eyes and rolled onto his back, he heard the door open and saw how Lilian entered the bedroom with a big tray in her hand.

"Good morning, darling," she said as she walked up to the bed.

"Mornin'," Peter mumbled, still not fully awake. He was simply no morning person. "What's this?" he asked, pointing to the tray.

"Oh, that?" Lilian asked, a smirk on her face. She placed the tray, which had two legs on the bottom, over her husband's lap and sat down on the edge of the bed. "I thought you might enjoy one last real breakfast before you leave. I know from my brother that the food the military serves is more rubbish than anything else."

"Yeah, but breakfast in bed? What 'ave I done to deserve 'at?"

"You are the most considerate, outlooking, hardworking, and sweetest husband I could have hoped for," Lilian said, her eyes radiating with love for Peter. "I wanted to show you how much I love you, how much you mean to me, before you leave for basic training."

Peter's ego swelled with pride upon hearing his wife's words. He leaned forward and gave her a passionate kiss, leaving them both breathless. Then he looked down at the tray and exclaimed, " 'at's really a full English, luv!"

And indeed, on the tray was everything one needed for a full English breakfast: bacon, scrambled eggs, fried tomatoes and mushrooms, buttered toast, sausages, and black pudding. And not to forget, a steaming mug of tea.

As Peter grabbed the mug, he said, "Join me, luv. Let us enjoy this meal together."

* * *

After breakfast, Peter took a shower while Lilian cleaned the dishes. Afterwards, Peter grabbed his suitcase and packed for basic training. He just put the framed wedding picture on top of the few clothes he took with him when Lilian stepped into the bedroom.

"Do you have everything you need, darling?"

"I think so," Peter answered. "I won't need a lot of clothin' since I get a uniform from the base. I packed me lucky deck of cards, four books, me pencil sharpener, and of course one of our weddin' pictures. I also packed a picture of me family as well as one with Luke and Jacob. I don't think I'll need anythin' else."

"Sounds good," Lilian said. "Where are your orders?"

"On the chest of drawers in the livin' room," Peter answered. He looked at his watch and said, "It's time to leave for the station."

Lilian merely nodded as she went to the closet to retrieve a cardigan of hers. All the while, Peter closed the suitcase, put the jacket on that lay next to it and went into the living room. As he grabbed the envelope containing his orders, his gaze fell on the picture frame next to it. The framed picture showed Lilian and her brother Samuel, but that was not what caught his attention. It was the small picture stuck in front of it, in the bottom left corner, which showed Lilian smiling into the camera.

"What are you staring at?" asked Lilian when she walked into the living room.

"Yer smile." Peter took the picture and showed it to Lilian. "I take this with me, alright?"

"Oh, this old thing? What's so special about that?"

Peter grabbed his wife's hand and said, "Ya."

A sheepish smile crept on Lilian's face and she began to blush. Peter grinned while he put the picture into the breast pocket of his shirt. Then he stretched his hand out and said, "Let's go."

* * *

They reached the train station ten minutes before the train was scheduled to leave. Since it was leaving from London, Lilian and Peter found the train at the platform, ready for the passengers to enter.

Peter put the suitcase on the ground and took Lilian's hands in his. "I guess it's time to say goodbye, luv."

"I have something for you," Lilian announced. She let go of Peter's hands and pulled out a silver necklace with a grey trinket. "It bears the image of Our Lady of Loretto; she's the patron saint of airmen. Though we are not Catholic, I think it can't hurt to carry this with you as protection."

Peter smiled and took the necklace from his wife. "Thank ya, luv. I'll wear this every day for the duration of me service." He put it around his neck and said, "I promise to write ya as soon as I arrive at the base."

"Don't worry about that, Peter. First, I want you to get settled." Lilian placed her hands on his shoulders and said, "But promise me something else. Promise me to take care of yourself. And don't get yourself into trouble. You're in the military now; this means you must follow a hierarchy. Follow orders whenever given to you, and don't talk back to men ranked higher than you. I want you back after your service. I don't want to see you end up with a court-martial."

Peter put his arms around his wife's waist. "I swear solemnly to do nothin' 'at could get me shot." He leaned down and gave Lilian a quick kiss. "I love ya, Lil. Please remember, I only do this for us."

"I know that, Peter." She drove with her thumb across his cheek. "And be sure to know that I'll always support you. No matter what you do, I will be the first person to have your back."

A smile circled around Peter's lips. Once more, he placed his lips on his wife's, but this time, the kiss was much longer and deeper. They were lost in the moment, but the sound of the engine driver's whistle, indicating that the train would leave in two minutes, pulled them apart.

"It's time," Peter whispered, still holding Lilian close.

"It's time," Lilian repeated.

Peter gazed into his wife's yellow-green eyes, and then he stepped away from her, grabbing his suitcase. "I love ya."

"I love you too, Peter."

Peter nodded. Then he turned around and stepped into the train. Lilian watched how the train left the station, still standing at the platform minutes after the train had vanished from her view. Eventually, she sighed and turned around, heading home. Alone.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I've incorporated a speech in this chapter. It might seem very long and maybe some parts are not all that interesting for some of you, but I found this speech very important for my story. And just for your notice, I will incorporate other speeches in future chapters. (Because I'm a huge fan of Winston Churchill's speeches held during the war :)** **)**

 **2nd A/N: As I have mentioned in the newly updated first chapter, I have changed the description from "Newkirk" to "Peter" in the civilian setting while it remains in the military setting. It might be confusing in the beginning, but exactly this will make it more evident that Peter is in a different setting, far away from his loved ones. Like I said, if you have a problem with that, please let me know.**

* * *

" _ **War is what happens when language fails." – Margaret Atwood**_

 _September 3, 1939_

It had been eight days since Lilian lived alone in the flat she had shared with her husband for a year. Eight days since her husband had left for basic training. Eight days since they thought their separation would only last three years, and that Peter would only earn a good amount of money. But for two days now, this thought had vanished. Ever since Germany attacked Poland, Lilian feared every waking minute that when the next announcement came, Chamberlain's voice would ring through the radio, informing the nation that the United Kingdom was officially at war with Germany. With every living cell in her body, Lilian feared that her husband, the man she loved with all her heart, would have to go to war, as well as her dearly loved brother.

Since it was a Sunday, Lilian started her workfree day with a late breakfast. While she enjoyed her morning tea, listening to the BBC in the background, Lilian read once more the letter from Peter that had arrived two days ago.

 _My beautiful darling,_

 _I have safely arrived at what I will call my home during my training – and hopefully during my service too. Upon my arrival at RAF Northolt, I was immediately brought to the base's commander, an Air Commodore Watson. In his office, I also met my squadron leader, Group Captain Davis. Watson was the image of those wealthy born, stiff upper-lip Britons that have no idea about the real life. He held a long monologue about the honour of being a RAF pilot, about only accepting perfection, and so on. I would have like to snap some remarks, but I thought about what you had said to me, and therefore, I kept my mouth shut. Davis seems to be a right chap. He welcomed me to the No. 3 Training Squadron, and then he showed me where to get my uniform and where I sleep. I share the room with 14 other blokes from all parts of the country. I just had enough time to put my uniform on before my first training unit. It was a theory lesson for the chaps that had never flown before. At the moment, that's the only lesson for me, since I have to have a certain amount of theory lessons before I sit in a plane._

 _I get along with all the blokes in my room, but I spend most of my time with two of them: Parker and Collins. Parker is from Cornwall and Collins was born in Wakefield. They are my age and they're just great to hang out with._

 _But no matter how much I like it here, I miss you dearly. As soon as the train had left the station, my heart was aching for you. At night when I lie in my bunk, you are the only thing on my mind. But knowing that I have your support gives me strength, and I'm certain that this was the right decision. I only hope that I will get a weekend pass soon, to envelope you in my arms and bury my face in your neck._

 _Until then, be sure that no matter where my body is, my mind and heart are always with you._

 _Yours, Peter_

Lilian laid the letter on the table, a smile on her face. She was glad that Peter liked it at RAF Northolt, and his sweet words concerning her made Lilian feel all warm and cosy. Right after receiving the letter, she had written one of her own, assuring her husband that she supported him completely. And of course she had written some loving words on her own to help Peter if he was feeling down.

Lilian was just about to clean the dishes, when a voice on the radio turned her full attention towards the little device. And what she heard made her heart drop.

" _This is BBC London. We interrupt our current program for an urgent announcement coming from our Prime Minister, Mr. Neville Chamberlain."_

" _I am speaking to you from the Cabinet Room at 10, Downing Street._

 _This morning, the British Ambassador in Berlin handed the German Government a final note stating that, unless we heard from them by 11 o'clock that they were prepared at once to withdraw their troops from Poland, a state of war would exist between us._

 _I have to tell you now that no such undertaking has been received, and that consequently, this country is at war with Germany."_

If Lilian have had a cup in her hand, it would have fallen to the ground with a shattering sound. Her worst fear had come true. While her heart was racing in her ears, everything else faded around her and at last, only Chamberlain's voice made it through the fog of fear.

" _You can imagine what a bitter blow it is to me that all my long struggle to win peace has failed. Yet I cannot believe that there is anything more or anything different that I could have done and that would have been more successful._

 _Up to the very last it would have been quite possible to have arranged a peaceful and honourable settlement between Germany and Poland, but Hitler would not have it. He had evidently made up his mind to attack Poland whatever happened, and although he now says he put forward reasonable proposals which were rejected by the Poles, that is not a true statement. The proposals were never shown to the Poles, not to us, and, although they were announced in a German broadcast on Thursday night, Hitler did not wait to hear comments on them, but ordered his troops to cross the Polish frontier. His action shows convincingly that there is no chance of expecting that this man will ever give up his practise of using force to gain his will. He can only be stopped by force._

 _We and France are today, in fulfilment of our obligations, going to the aid of Poland, who is so bravely resisting this wicked and unprovoked attack on her people. We have a clear conscience. We have done all that any country could do to establish peace. This situation in which no word given by Germany's ruler could be trusted and no people or country could feel themselves safe has become intolerable. And now that we have resolved to finish it, I know that you will all play your part with calmness and courage."_

Calmness? How should she be calm when both her husband and brother will be fighting in a war, and who knows how many of her brothers-in-law would soon come to follow? How should anyone be calm who had lived through the Great War, the painful memories repeating once more? Or the children who had to grow up without a father, or with one who was not the same anymore? No, calmness was the furthest thing on her mind. Fear ran through her every vein, filling her whole body.

" _At such a moment as this the assurance of support that we have received from the Empire are a source of profound encouragement to us._

 _When I have finished speaking, certain detailed announcements will be made on behalf of the Government. Give these your close attention._

 _The Government have made plans under which it will be possible to carry on the work of the nation in the days of stress and strain that may be ahead. But these plans need your help. You may be taking your part in the fighting services or as a volunteer in one of the branches of Civil Defence. If so, you will report for duty in accordance with the instructions you have received. You may be engaged in work essential to the prosecution of war for the maintenance of life of the people - in factories, in transport, in public utility concerns, or in the supply of other necessaries of life. If so, it is of vital importance that you should carry on with your jobs._

 _Now may God bless you all. May He defend the right. It is the evil things that we shall be fighting against – brute force, bad faith, injustice, oppression and persecution – and against them I am certain that the right will prevail."_

How can he be so sure that the right – they – will win? There are enough examples in the everyday life to prove that the right does not always win. And war, that she was sure about, was more of a gamble than anything else. Hitler would not have attacked Poland if he was not certain that he had a powerful military. The United Kingdom may have that too, but in the end, it will be a war of resources – of men, women, material, spirit, willpower. And was the British population strong enough to face off Hitler's followers? Only time could answer that.

Lilian sank down on a chair and stared at a blank spot in the kitchen. Her worst nightmare had come true; her husband and brother would go to war. And who knew what the future would bring? Maybe her worst nightmare turned out to be more of a fairy tale compared to the reality.

* * *

 _Same time, RAF Northolt_

After breakfast and morning sport, Newkirk found himself in one of the classrooms while his CO, Group Captain Davis, lectured his training squadron on flight formations and tactics. As always, the trainees listened attentively, taking in every advice and information they got. Suddenly, the door busted open and Davis XO, Flight Lieutenant Ellis, rushed into the room.

"Sorry to interrupt, Sir. But Air Commodore Watson ordered every unit to turn on the radio and listen to the BBC," Ellis explained while panting slightly.

"Well, if that's what the Air Commodore wants." Davis went over to the radio that was installed in every single room on the base and switched it on.

Just as with Davis, the trainees listened closely to the voice of the radio. When Chamberlain's voice rang through the room, informing the British people of the declaration of war against Germany, a murmur went through the airmen. Only Newkirk kept silent as he continued to listen to Chamberlain explaining the events leading to the declaration and encouraging the people to fight for the right. In that moment, his mind was not focused on the fact that he had to fight in a war just like his father had, but it was a million miles away. All of his thoughts circled around Lilian and her reaction to the news; the fear she must feel for him and Samuel.

When the announcement was over, Davis switched the radio off. He drove with his right hand through his grey hair before he turned to his squadron, staring into fifteen mostly scared and astonished faces. In a calm voice, he said, "Don't fret, boys! I know how you feel; scared, puzzled, numb. All those feelings rushed through me when I heard the declaration of war in the Great War. But you have to focus on one thing now: on fighting. When you joined up, you joined a group of brave men willing to die for their country, for their country men and women, and for the King. The people who stay behind the fighting lines put all their hope and trust in you to protect them from the Axis of Darkness. You might say that you don't see a reason for fighting against Germans; you don't know them, or you know some who are friendly. This might be true, but you must understand: The world depends on us. Poland has already been attacked by the brutal urge for territorial expansion, and trust me, it won't be the last country to suffer under Hitler and his supporters. And we, the brave members of the British fighting forces, together with our allies, have to protect us and others, and to liberate those who have fallen under German rule. I can already tell you, not all of you will see this day. Some of you will die while fighting for democracy and freedom in Europe. But be sure, no one of you will be forgotten. Europe will thank you for your brave sacrifice; a sacrifice given for peace and freedom of the nations."

After his speech, Davis turned to the chalkboard behind him and smirked, "And now, let us continue with the different flying formations. Since we are at war now, we have to speed up your training."

As Davis continued his explanation about flying formations, Newkirk took notes and tried to be as attentive as possible. But all he could think of was Lilian, and the gruesome future lying ahead of them all.

* * *

 **3rd A/N: So now the war has started. But it still is a lot to go until Peter will be part of our "Unsung Heroes". As I have already mentioned, there will be some minor or major time jumps in the future, since I want to capture the whole war in this story without making it a huge monster. And since this story is not mainly about Peter's participation in Hogan's operation, but sets its focus on Lilian and Peter's relationship during this war, I think time jumps are alright.**


	7. Chapter 7

" _ **Older men declare war. But it is the youth that must fight and die" – Herbert Hoover**_

"And how are you feeling?" asked Hannah.

She and Lilian sat in her classroom after the afternoon class. Both were worn out after holding the morning and afternoon class, but they still had to clean their room. Since Lilian had one lesson less, she had already cleaned hers and was now helping Hannah cleaning hers so that they could go home soon.

"How am I supposed to feel with both my husband and brother in the forces and with that probably the first to go off? Mostly afraid. But I guess that's nothing new to you," Lilian answered while wiping the chalkboard clean.

"Yeah," Hannah sighed, staring at the golden wedding band on her left hand. "I can't believe that Colin and I got married only three months ago, and now he has to go to war." She looked at her best friend and asked, "What if he doesn't come back?"

Lilian turned around and caught sight of Hannah's frightened expression. She put the sponge down and walked over to the other woman, sitting down at the desk and putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Don't think about that; constantly worrying about it helps no one. I also fear for Peter and Samuel, but I try to stay positive. In the end, we can't change what will happen." A small smile flashed across her face. "Besides, don't forget that we have each other to go through this. We will support each other as long as our husbands are fighting against the Germans."

Her smile transmitted over to Hannah, who placed her hand on Lilian's. "You're right, Lilian. We must stay positive. Just like our mothers did during the Great War."

Lilian's smile faded away as she rose to her feet to get the broom that stood in the corner of the classroom. "My mother hadn't had to worry for my father; he avoided conscription by sucking up to the father of one of his friends. Got him a job in the defence department."

"Then like **my** mother did," Hannah said. "She told me stories about how she always stayed positive, not matter how bad the news had been. And my father said by transferring this positiveness into her letters, she helped him to live through everything he had to witness."

Lilian took the broom and began to sweep. "Well, you know what to do then."

* * *

After having cleaned Hannah's classroom and having bought some groceries, Lilian finally arrived at home. When she pushed the door open, she noticed a letter lying on the hallway's ground. Lilian closed the door and brought the groceries into the kitchen, then she went back to retrieve the letter. As her gaze fell on the return address, she could not suppress a smile.

 _AC. Peter Newkirk_

 _RAF Training Squadron No. 3_

 _RAF Northolt_

 _West End Road, Ruislip, London, Middlesex, HA4 6NG_

Lilian went into the living room and sat down on the couch while tearing the envelope open. She quickly pulled out the letter and read the longed-for words of her husband.

 _My darling wife,_

 _I'm sure by now you are worrying your head off after our declaration of war against Germany. But please, don't do so! I know that the situation must be scary for you; hell, it frightens me too. And I also know that our plans for the future have been thrown into disarray, but I need your strength, darling. Knowing that you continue to live with your usual positiveness and pragmatism gives me the strength to do my job. I hope I don't sound like an idiot to you. I still want you to write me if there is something burdening you. But if I knew that you were constantly worried for me, I didn't think I could have a clear head. However, if I knew that you are still your positive self, I am certain that your positiveness will transfer over to me and boost me to accomplish everything thrown at me._

 _Oh, Lilian! This mess of war turned everything upside down! My training was shortened in order to provide the RAF with new fighter pilots. So I don't know when or if I get a chance to get a home leave, but I don't lose hope. I know it's not how we had planned it, but like I said the night before I left, life is unpredictable._

 _Seeing your tender face in my dreams is the source of my strength. And though it hurts in the morning to see your face being robbed from me, I look forward to seeing it in the night again. I know that we can go through this, no matter how long this war will go on, no matter what this war will throw at us. And this is the thought I cling to in dark times. Let it be your rock too._

 _Love you,_

 _Peter_

Lilian put the letter down, amazed by her husband's love for her. He was the one who had to go off to war, and still, she was his only worry. Despite the frightening situation the country, or more precisely, Europe was in, it filled her heart with warmth to know that she had such a caring husband.

Lilian placed the letter on the living room table and headed for the kitchen to put away the groceries. After that, she sat down to write a letter of her own.

* * *

The next day, Lilian found herself at home after midday, this being the only day she did not have any afternoon classes. She wanted to use her free time to continue the letter for Peter which she had to abandon much to early yesterday evening; she had been dead-tired and in no possession of any fibre of concentration. Settling down with a cup of tea, Lilian took a new sheet of paper and was just about to start writing when there was a knock on the door.

Groaning, she put the pencil away and made her way to the door. As she opened the door, Lilian was stunned to see that it was Samuel who had knocked. "Samuel?" she asked.

"Hey, sis!" he greeted. "Can I come in?"

"Sure." Lilian opened the door for him and he made his way to the living room. "You care for a cup of tea?"

"Always."

Lilian went into the kitchen, only to enter the living room moments later with two cups of steaming tea. She handed one cup to Samuel and sat down next to him on the couch. "What gives me the honour of your visit?" she asked before taking a sip from her cup.

Samuel lowered his glace to the piece of porcelain in his hands. "It's not a good reason, I fear."

Lilian's face saddened. "It's because of the war, isn't it?"

Samuel nodded and sighed. "My unit leaves today. We're heading to the Belgian-French border as part of the British Expeditionary Force."

Lilian felt how her heart stopped beating for a moment. She put the cup of tea on the table since she feared to lose all strength in her body. "Already today?"

"I would have come earlier, but we only got the news last night. And I knew that you had lessons in the morning."

"Poor Hannah," Lilian sighed.

"Colin's on his way to her now," Samuel said. He drank from his cup and asked, "How's Peter doing?"

The corners of her mouth raised into a small smile at thinking about her husband. "I just received a letter from him. He's doing good. Said his training will be speeded up because the RAF needs new fighter pilots," Lilian explained.

"I'm glad he joined up, Lilian," Samuel said. He put the cup and saucer down on the table and drove with his hand through his short brown hair. It was the same colour as Lilian's hair, and he even had the same yellow-green eyes than her. If one did not know they were siblings, one could easily think of them as twins. "I know you were not thrilled by his decision, and even less thrilled that I somehow got him into joining up, but now that we are actually at war, I'm glad that he is not in the infantry."

"You're right, I was not thrilled, but I understand your point of view. But I'm even happier when this war will soon be over and I have you two back, healthy and alive."

The two siblings continued to talk through the whole afternoon, revelling in old childhood memories as well as resent happenings. They talked about their parents, which both had not seen since the clash after Newkirk's arrest, neither particularly sad about it [1]. And they speculated about what the future will hold for them and the world, hoping for a short end but both knowing it better with the Great War in mind. Before they knew it, three hours were over and Samuel had to head back to base.

Lilian saw her big brother to the door. "Promise me to be careful, Samuel. I know that war is unpredictable and that you have vowed to protect King and Country, but still."

"I can't promise anything other than that I will do my best to stay alive," Samuel answered.

"That's enough for me." Lilian looked at her brother and wrapped his arms around him. "I will pray for you. And I will write you every week."

"Sounds good." Samuel held his sister in a tight embrace. "I will miss you dearly, Lilian."

"I will miss you too, Samuel. But we have managed three years apart while you were in Liverpool, so I'm certain we will manage this too."

They stepped apart and smiled at each other, each face bearing a bittersweet expression. At last, Samuel turned around and silently left his sister's apartment. Lilian looked after him for some minutes before closing the door, returning to her once again abandoned letter.

* * *

 _A few days later_

Newkirk lay in his bed, reading one of his books. Currently, the men in his unit had a bit of free time before another trainings mission. Since the British government declared war on Germany, his training had speed up tremendously. Now they had about four flights per day plus two theory lessons. His CO was sure that if they kept up this rhythm, Newkirk and the others would be patrolling the English Channel in two weeks.

All other men in his unit where with him in the barracks except Corporal Harrison, the barracks chief. Most were lying in their beds, except for his good friends Parker and Collins, who sat at the table and played cards. With them sat a new boy who had only arrived two days ago; Aircraftman Murphy.

Parker was just loudly praising himself as he won another round of cards when the door opened and Harrison entered. In his hands were multiple small bundles of neatly bounded letter, and he called out, "Mail delivery!"

Newkirk immediately put his book away and sat up on his bed, waiting for Harrison to come around to him. After his barracks chief had given all the other men their letters, he walked up to Newkirk and said, "And now, gentlemen, the winner of this delivery: Aircraftman Newkirk with three letters!" He handed him the bundle and smiled, "Someone must be very popular at home."

Newkirk took the bundle and removed the cord, scanning the envelope for the names of the addressors, a smile spreading across his face.

Murphy, a slender boy at the age of eighteen with more freckles than beard stubbles on his face, asked, "From whom are your letters, Newkirk?"

"Me Ma, me Sis, and me wife." Newkirk put the letters of his mother and sister away and opened his wife's letter first.

"You're married?" Murphy asked.

Newkirk looked up and smiled, holding his hand with his wedding ring up. "Did ya think I wear this thin' because I belong to some sort of organization, or what?"

Murphy shrugged and directed his glance to the ground. "A lot of men do," he shyly answered. After a moment, he regained the courage to look up and asked, "Do you have a picture?"

Newkirk raised his glance from the letter in his hands, eyebrows raised. As he looked at Murphy, seeing the shy body language of the black-haired kid, he realized the request was Murphy's attempt to bond with him; start some sort of friendship. So he grabbed his jacket and retrieved the small picture of Lilian he had removed from the picture frame.

He handed it to Murphy and proudly said, " 'er name's Lilian, and she is the most intelligent, warm-'earted, and without a doubt the most beautiful woman ya will ever lay yer eyes on."

"Wow," escaped Murphy as he gazed at the picture.

Harrison walked up behind Murphy and put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Yeah, Newkirk, we get it: your wife is super hot." He looked at the picture and whistled. "Damn, your wife is hot stuff!"

Newkirk snatched the picture away from Murphy and glared at Harrison. " 'ey, watch yer mouth! Ya might be right, but 'at's me wife ya're talkin' about."

Harrison laughed and went to his bed, laying down as he began to read his own letter. Newkirk watched him, but then he leaned back in his bed to read his own letter.

 _My brave flyer,_

 _You know me so well! The moment I heard Chamberlain's speech, I felt a knot in my stomach and my heart stopped beating. All I could think of was that you had to go to war, and it scared me; it still does. Though my father avoided conscription, I know from David how the war had taken a toll on his mother. But reading your letter gives me the confidence to think positive. Funny that you have mentioned that my positiveness would transfer to you through my letters; exactly the same thing said Hannah the day I got your letter. And Peter, you can count on me. Of course there will be no day that I don't worry for you or Samuel, but I will not loose my positive outlook on the world. I promise you that._

 _Samuel visited me today. Usually his visits fill me with joy, but today his visit left me crestfallen. He came to tell me that his unit has been transferred to France. By the time this letter reaches you, he has probably already reached his destination. I only hope this war will quickly be over so that I have you two back with me!_

 _Peter, love, I miss you more than my heart can bear. But looking at pictures of us or just thinking about you sends a warm jolt through my body and makes me smile. And no matter how far apart we are, our love for each other connects and strengthens us._

 _Please don't worry your head off because of a possible weekend pass! As much as I yearn to see you again, to be in your arms again, it is beyond our control. Just cling to the thought that fate decides when we will see each other again. And since fate has brought us together, I'm positive that it won't let us down._

 _Your loving wife,_

 _Lilian_

Newkirk put the letter down, a big smile on his face. He could always count on his wife to find the right words and cheer him up. Especially in such troubled times, he felt blessed to have someone like Lilian by his side, even though they were miles apart. His silver wedding ring was proof that they were always together.

He put the letter back in the envelope when Parker asked, "What's new at home?"

"Me brother-in-law 'as been shipped off to France," answered Newkirk. "And what says yer letter?"

"Nothing spectacular. My sister sent a full report on which animals have gotten kids and on the newest rumours in our town."

Newkirk laughed. "So just the important stuff." His gaze fell on Murphy, whose face bore a sad expression. "Is somethin' wron', Murphy?" The boy did not react. "Murphy?" Newkirk asked again.

Murphy looked up from the letter in his shaky hands, his facial expression a mixture between the already existent sadness and a slight tenseness. To Newkirk, it seemed like the kid was on the brink of crying.

He rose from his bed and walked over to him. "What's wron', Murphy?"

"It's my…it's my girl," Murphy croaked. "She broke up with me."

"Blimey!" Collins hissed while Parker said, "I'm sorry to hear that."

"I'm only away for a few days, and it's already too much for her! She said she wants to be with someone for whom she doesn't have to worry constantly."

"Well, 'at's low," Newkirk said. Then he put a hand on Murphy's shoulder. "I know ya're angry and sad now, and ya probably won't listen to me, but trust me, it's for the best. Just forget 'er and go on. A bird 'at lets ya fall just after a few days of bein' apart doesn't deserve yer love."

"How should I forget her so easily?" Murphy asked as he put the letter on the table. "She's been the first girl I have ever loved. We were a couple for almost three years now."

"It's never easy to walk away, but there will be other girls. And one day, ya will meet the one girl 'at's truly special."

Murphy raised his glance at Newkirk, a bittersweet smile on his face. "Thank you, Newkirk."

"Ya're welcome." Newkirk's gaze landed on the cards on the table and he sat down at the last vacant chair. He took the cards and skilfully shuffled them. "Care to get yer mind off of 'er?"

Murphy's bittersweet smile grew bigger. He nodded and said, "Yeah, sounds good."

* * *

 **[1] – Part of the plot in my other story, "All Is Fair In Love and War". To make their daughter break up with Peter, Mr. & Mrs. Wheeler fake a robbery in their house with the help of Lilian's ex-fiancé Michael. Despite causing some trouble between the couple, they stick together and in the aftermath, Lilian breaks contact with her parents.**


	8. Chapter 8

" _ **Love is like the wind, you can't see it but you can feel it." – Nicholas Sparks**_

 _Two weeks later_

Lilian sat on the couch, sipping a cup of tea while listening to the radio. Since Friday was her only day without afternoon classes, she was already home at around two o'clock. And listening to the midday news with a steaming cuppa was her way of sounding the bell for the weekend. As the newsreader began to share the latest news about the proceeding of the war, Lilian's heart skipped a beat; as always when the newscast came around to this topic. Though the war in Western Europe was more of a phony war than anything else at the moment, she still checked for her brother's name in the newspaper every morning and always feared that the next newscast would inform her that the war had heated up. But as usual, there were no such information shared with the British population, and Lilian's heart slowed down as the newsreader said goodbye.

In Samuel's last letter, he told his younger sister that the only thing he did the whole day was watching the Maginot Line for any kind of German activity. But until now, nothing had happened. As it was typical for Samuel when he found himself in situations he could not control, he made dark or bad jokes. It was his way of coping with things that scared him. So in one of his last letters, he wrote that it was the calm before the storm since the Germans were still busy with rounding up Poland. The British and French would their share in the fighting as soon as Hitler's troop had been stuffed to the gills with Polish blood.

Lilian sighed. She was already constantly worrying about her brother. What kind of nervous wrack would she be when her husband was taking an active part in the war? Well, she would soon find out, Lilian thought to herself. Peter's pilot test would be any day now, and after that he would surely be moved to a base closer to the coast. Although there was no German activity over the English Channel yet, her husband's transfer was bound to happen. What did the RAF want with a trained fighter pilot near London? They needed them by the coast to intercept German planes to make sure they would not reach English soil.

Only three weeks into this yet uneventful conflict, and Lilian's life had already changed dramatically. Before the war, she had spent her days teaching and relaxing with her husband, meeting with Hannah or Mavis for a cup of tea and talking about everything and anything, spending time with Samuel, and of course with the rest of the Newkirk clan. And now? Whenever she met with Hannah or someone of her in-laws, the war was the topic that dominated their conversations. After all, everyone was affected. Thomas, Peter's oldest brother, had used his experience as a mechanic to get assigned to a tank division when his letter from the draft board had come in. His wife Annie seemed to be rather calm with that, glad that her husband was not fighting as a foot soldier on the frontlines. Henry, the second oldest Newkirk brother, had been drafted into the Royal Navy as part of a submarine crew, which frightened his wife Ivy; the thought of Henry being trapped underwater if they were hit gave her nightmares. Peter's third oldest brother Alexander got called up for the infantry just like Mary's husband Philip and Mavis' fiancé Jonathan. Jack, Emma's husband, joined the RAF, aiming for being part of the groundcrew. From Peter's best friends Luke and Jacob, only Luke had been called up to serve king and country. He trained to be a sailor in the Royal Navy, but contrary to Henry, he would be part of a ship crew and not on a submarine. Since Jacob was a mailman and therefore considered to be needed at home for the everyday life, he evaded conscription. However, he was not really happy with that. Seeing all his friends being called up for service made him feel lousy. He wanted to fight the Germans to avenge his father who had died in the Great War; Lilian was sure he would volunteer any time soon.

Lilian took another sip from her cup when she heard a knock on the door. Putting down the cup on a saucer, she rose to her feet and headed to the front door while wondering who the person on the other side of the door might be; she did not expect anyone.

She opened the door and said, "Hello," but stopped in her tracks when she laid eyes on the other person.

" 'ello, luv," Peter greeted with a big smile on his face, his duffel bag in one hand and a bouquet of pink lilies in the other.

At first, Lilian stood there, glued to the spot, her big eyes staring at her husband in front of her. Then she moved forward and threw her arms around his neck. "Peter!"

Peter put an arm around her back, the one in which hand he was holding the bouquet. Then he buried his nose in her chestnut brown hair, taking in the scent of lavender he missed so much the last weeks. After a long embrace, Lilian removed her head from Peter's shoulder and looked into her husband's greyish-green eyes which held a bright sparkle that she loved so much. With her hands still wrapped around his neck, Lilian stood on her tiptoes and placed her full red lips on his pale ones. Both had longed for feeling the other's body pressed against theirs, and they threw in all the passion they had. Peter's tongue plundered Lilian's mouth that she willingly opened, intertwining her tongue with her husband's soft muscle. She had missed the taste of cigarettes even though she usually found it less appealing; however, tasting the tobacco from his tongue was head and shoulders better than smelling his cigarettes in the air. Although the last weeks without cigarette smoke in the flat had shown her that she rather smelled cigarettes than not having Peter with her.

When they broke apart after sensuous minutes of tasting each other, Lilian looked at her husband and asked, "What are you doing here?"

"Spendin' time with me beautiful wife of course," Peter answered. He removed his arm from her back and showed her the bouquet of pink lilies. "These are for ya."

A big smile found its way on Lilian's face as she took the flowers from her husband. Ever since their first date on which he had given her pink lilies, Peter would always give her this kind of flowers when he was giving her a bouquet.

"Thank you, darling." She stepped aside and said, "But let's get in."

As she walked into the kitchen to put the flowers in a vase, Peter stepped in and laughed, "And 'ere I am, thinkin' I would get away from followin' orders for a few days."

Peter passed the kitchen and went straight into the living room, putting his duffel bag on the couch.

"Now I see why women fancy men in uniforms," he heard Lilian saying behind him. He turned around to see his wife standing in the doorframe. "You look incredible dashing and attractive in blue," she said with a smirk on her face.

A mischievous grin flashed across his face as Peter opened his arms. "Yeah, the ladies love me. They're all over me when I'm in town with the chaps." Lilian moved closer to him and he enveloped her in his arms. He kissed around her ear before whispering, "But ya're the only girl I want to be fancied by."

Peter pressed his lips on Lilian's again and drove with his fingers through her hair. Then he moved downwards with his hands until they reached their destination, giving his wife's eminent behind a tender squeeze. He left her lips to breathe, "Oh, Lil, I want to love ya. Now. It's been so lon'."

Lilian just grinned and removed his hands from her bottom, leading him into their bedroom.

* * *

After loving each other, Lilian was snuggled against her husband, her head placed on his heaving chest. Both tried to catch their breath as they enjoyed the feel of the other's sweaty body pressed against theirs.

After minutes of simply listening to Peter's heartbeat, Lilian propped herself up on his chest. She drove with her fingers through the damp strands of black hair on his forehead while she asked, "Not that I haven't enjoyed this reunion, but what brings you here? I thought you were training for your upcoming flying test?"

Peter placed one hand on Lilian's lower back and with the other he brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "We 'ad our flyin' test yesterday. I passed."

Lilian smiled. "Congratulations, darling. I knew you could do it." She leaned down and gave her husband another kiss.

When they broke apart, Peter said, "To answer yer question. All of us passed, and 'at after only two weeks of trainin'. As a reward, Group Captain Davis gave everyone a four-day pass to visit their families." He chuckled. "Ya can believe me, I packed me things and sat in the next train to London faster than the speed of light."

"I can imagine it," Lilian said as she grinned. But then the smile vanished from her face as she realized what Peter's passed flying test meant.

Peter saw the worried expression on his wife's face and asked, "What's wron', Lil?"

Lilian looked him in the eyes and asked, "Does this mean you will be transferred to another base now? To be prepared in case the Germans start attacking us?"

A laugh escaped Peter's lips. " 'at's the funny thin', luv. Because Davis was so focused on speedin' up the flyin' trainin' to see who would keep up, 'e neglected the basic trainin'. So we might be licensed fighter pilots now, but we still 'ave to learn about close-combat and everythin' else. This means I will return to Northolt on Monday; but I will probably be transferred to the coast in about two months."

Lilian nodded and lowered her gaze on his chest. Peter watched her, waiting for a reaction. After she discarded her worries, telling herself to focus on the time she had with her husband, Lilian looked up and smiled. "Any plans on what you want to do while you are here?"

"Well, I wanted to visit me parents today and to go to the Red Lions in the evenin'. I will see those of me family who are still left on Sunday at me parents' home, so I don't visit them separately; well maybe Mavis on Sunday after the lunch." Peter grinned. "And tomorrow, I want to spend the whole day with ya. Only the two of us."

"Sounds like a plan," Lilian answered as she drove lightly with her finger over his chest.

"But until then," Peter said, suddenly pushing Lilian on her back and following her on top. "We still 'ave enough time to continue where we stopped."

* * *

After visiting his parents, Peter found himself at the Red Lions with his wife and best friend Jacob.

"Tell me, man. 'ow is basic trainin'?" Jacob wanted to know.

He sat across from Peter and Lilian in one of the newly added booths, and as he saw his best friend dressed in a blue RAF uniform, Jacob felt jealous upon Peter's chance to serve king and country. Though he grew up in Stepney as well, he did not have such an aversion to the government than Peter had; he wanted to make his father proud by continuing his fight against the Germans.

Peter had his arm draped around Lilian's shoulders, taking a sip from his beer. "Well, the last three weeks I 'ad only flyin' trainin'. But 'at was incredible! The adrenalin rush I 'ave when I'm flyin' through the skies of England is better than anythin' else I 'ave ever felt." He turned to face Lilian and smirked. "Well, there **are** times I 'ave felt better. But I won't mention them."

Lilian playfully elbowed him in the ribs while Jacob rolled his eyes.

"No one wants ya to mention them, trust me," Jacob said, taking a big gulp from his own beer glass.

"So, Jacob," Lilian began. "Have you decided what to do?"

"Decided what to do?" Peter repeated with a puzzled look on his face. He gazed at Jacob and asked, "What does she mean?"

"I think about volunteerin' for service," Jacob answered.

"Ya do what?" Peter asked in disbelief. "Are ya crackers, mate? Be 'appy 'at the military thinks ya're too valuable to be called up."

"I'm not crackers, Peter," Jacob retorted. "Besides, ya enlisted voluntarily prior to the war. So don't act as if ya were drafted."

"Yeah, but I only did it for Lilian. Otherwise they would 'ave only gotten me through conscription. Do ya really think I **want** to fight?" Peter asked.

"But I want to fight, Peter!" Jacob exclaimed. "I want to fight the Germans, I want to serve king and country…and I want to avenge me father."

Peter sighed. "I'm sure yer father would not want ya to fight if ya're not called up for service."

"Well, I'm sure me father would not want to be buried somewhere in France too, but 'e is," Jacob snapped.

"Just think about yer mother, mate. Do ya want 'onestly want 'er to 'ave lost 'er 'usband in the Great War and 'er son in this war? Do ya really want 'at?"

Peter was extremely mad at his best friend. To throw away the luck of working in a vital branch. How dumb was Jacob? Even without enlisting, Peter would have found himself in the same position he was now since being a magician for the citizens delight was not considered a vital part of the everyday life.

The dispute between the two friends quickly turned into shouting at each other. Eventually, Lilian had enough and stepped in.

"Stop it!" she yelled. The two men she shared the booth with immediately fell silent and looked at her. "You don't help anyone by shouting at each other." Lilian turned to her husband. "If Jacob wants to volunteer, you as his best friend should support him instead of shouting at him. It's a brave thing to do," she scolded Peter. Then she turned to Jacob and smiled at him. "I'm sure you will make the right decision; whatever it will be."

"Thank ya, Lilian," Jacob answered, returning her smile.

When there was no response coming from Peter, Lilian glared at her husband, a stern look on her face. Peter sighed and said, "Alright, mate, I will be the supportive friend no matter 'ow ya decide. But I still think ya're a wanker for throwin' away yer luck."

Jacob grinned. "I can live with 'at."


	9. Chapter 9

" _ **Marriage is a mosaic you build with your spouse. Millions of tiny moments that create your love story" – Jennifer Smith**_

The next morning, Peter was the first one to wake up. As usual, he stretched and rubbed his eyes before turning on his back. He looked to his left and was greeted with the sight of Lilian's bare back. Oh, how he had missed to wake up next to his beautiful wife, to watch her sleep for a few moments before kissing her awake. One could talk about Heaven all they want, but his Heaven was in bed, right next to the person he loved more than anything else in the world.

Peter turned on his left side and snuggled up behind Lilian, slipping his arm around her body. He planted kisses on her shoulder and upper arm, then he nuzzled her neck. She stirred against him and moaned slightly.

"Mhm, I missed that," Lilian said as she stretched her arm and placed her hand on his head.

"Me too." Peter nibbled on her earlobe and added, "There's nothin' better than kissin' ya awake."

Lilian turned around in his embrace and planted her lips on his while burying her fingers in her husband's tousled black hair. Peter pulled her closer to him and pushed his tongue in his wife's mouth. Their muscles intertwined and danced in Lilian's mouth, her moans being muffled by his mouth.

When they broke apart, Lilian smiled at him and asked, "So, anything planned for today? Other than spending the day with me that is."

Peter smirked. "A few things." He pushed his wife on her back and rolled on top of her. "And the first one requires us to stay in bed for a while."

She had her hands placed on his shoulders and let them travel down over his chest. "I like the sound of that."

Peter leaned down and whispered in Lilian's ear, "Let's see if ya like the sounds I will make ya produce."

* * *

After they had spent the whole morning in bed, Lilian and Peter enjoyed their breakfast at a small café in the City of London. It was a bit more expensive than what Lilian was comfortable with, but Peter insisted on using his earned money to spoil them during the weekend; especially to spoil his wife. And after one year of marriage, Lilian knew that once Peter had taken something in his head, there was no way to convince him otherwise.

They were strolling through one of the busy shopping streets right in the heart of London. Hand in hand, they looked through the shop windows and at the outside tables at things they could never afford. And though sometimes the thought that she would have been able to buy those things before her marriage with Peter crept into her mind, Lilian always immediately discarded them. Yes, she might had been able to buy all the stuff she wanted, but all the luxury in the world could not buy her true happiness and the feeling of being loved and cared for. But with Peter, she found all those things, and at the end of the day, happiness was the only thing that mattered.

Lilian stopped in front of a clothing shop and looked through the shopping window. Right in the middle was a mannequin that displayed a light blue knee-long cotton dress with three small buttons on the front. The upper part was plain blue and the skirt part was covered with white pin-striped. The dress had been displayed for a couple of months, and every time Lilian walked past it, she stopped to look at it. She loved how unadorned it was and still spread beauty and uniqueness. But it was much too expansive for her; she needed the money to make ends meet.

She turned to continue walking when Peter said, "It's a nice-lookin' dress, isn't it?" He faced his wife and asked, "Is this the dress ya've been tellin' me about?"

"Yes," Lilian answered, making another attempt to leave. But Peter's grip on her hand prevented that.

"Ya should try it on," Peter said. "I bet ya'll look amazin' in it."

"And next I will buy a car or what?" Lilian huffed. "It's much too expansive, Peter. And I have a rule to never try on clothes I can't afford." She tugged at his hand. "Now can we please go to the movies and look at what they are playing?"

"But I want ya to try it on. For me." Peter put on his best little boy smile and said, "Pleeeeaaaassssseeee."

Lilian sighed. She never could resist this smile and Peter knew it. And since he knew that, he pulled her into the shop.

The bell on the door rang as they stepped in. The saleswoman who had her back turned to them as she put a pair of shoes in a shelf immediately turned around, and with a big smile she greeted, "Welcome to my little shop! What can I do for you?"

Since Peter sensed that his wife was still against his idea, he took care of the talking. "Me wife is interested in one of yer dresses. Perhaps she could try it on?"

"Of course, of course," the saleswoman said. "Which dress are we talking about?"

Peter pointed to the mannequin. "The light blue one displayed in the window."

The saleswoman's eminent smile grew even bigger as she walked to the shopping window. "Oh yes, I can see why. You are lucky I still have it displayed, because I was just about to replace it with the winter collection." While she removed the dress from the mannequin, she explained, "It's a beautiful summer dress of high quality which guarantees a high wearing comfort. I'm sure it will look amazing on your wife with her darker hair colour and her skin tone." The saleswoman took the dress from the mannequin and walked over to them, pointing to the back of the shop. "Please, follow me, Madam."

Lilian shot Peter an annoyed glance, who grinned in return, before she followed the saleswoman into the clothing booth. A few minutes later, Peter heard the saleswoman exclaiming, "Madam, you look gorgeous!" which made him grin even more.

Soon, the curtain of the clothing booth opened and Lilian emerged, making Peter holding his breath. She looked absolutely stunning, the light blue colour harmonising lovely with her yellow-green eyes. And the saleswoman was right; Lilian's chestnut brown hair matched the light blue colour of the dress beautifully.

The saleswoman led Lilian to a full-length mirror and said, "Look at yourself, Madam. You look lovely just being in this plain dress." She adjusted the dress and Lilian's hair a bit. "Now imagine what earrings or a hairband would add. Of course you can find any kind of accessories that match the dress here in my shop," she advertised.

Lilian examined herself in the mirror and sighed. "You're right; it's beautiful. But – "

"But what?" The saleswoman interjected. "Do you want to see yourself with a handbag or a bracelet?"

"No, not that," Lilian said. "As lovely as the dress is, it's simply too expensive."

"Rubbish!" Peter exclaimed from behind her. "Madam, she takes the dress. And ya said ya 'ave some bracelets 'at would match the dress?"

The saleswoman's face lit up. "Oh, most definitely!" She turned to Lilian and said, "I'll be back in a second with some real beauties. The best things I keep in the back."

Without waiting for Lilian's response, she hurried through the back door of the shop.

Lilian turned away from the mirror, facing her grinning husband. "What was that? Are you crazy?" she asked, her face betraying her anger.

"No, I'm not barmy," Peter responded. "And why are ya angry with me? I'm buyin' ya the dress ya've been talkin' about for months now."

"That's why I'm angry with you. As much as I love this dress, it's too expansive. Period. We need the money for food and rent. Do I really have to explain to you that we are in no position to simply buy everything we want? Really, Peter?"

Peter moved closer to his wife and took her hands in his, tenderly stroking the back of her hands with his thumbs. "Ya don't 'ave to explain 'at to me. I grew up all me life not bein' able to spend money on things I want. Me clothes, toys, everythin' I possessed as a little lad used to belon' to me brothers. But now, for the first time in me life, I earn enough money to buy something 'at we don't _need_ , but _want_. And I know 'ow much ya want the dress if ya are brutally 'onest with yerself. I know I said I want to save some of me earnings for the future, but this weekend, I want to spend it on us. I want to show ya 'ow much I love ya."

"Oh, Peter," Lilian said. "You don't have to buy me anything to show me how much you love me. You do that with your behaviour every day. By kissing me awake in the morning or kissing me goodnight. By giving me little affordable affections like flowers; just like you did yesterday. You do that by holding me when we sit on the couch in the evenings, whispering sweet things into my ear. By making me laugh with your impressions or silly jokes. And most importantly, you show me that you love me by the way you look at me. Because when I look into your eyes, I see a deep love radiating at me, which makes me feel cherished and cared for. And that's all I need. No dresses or any other materialistic things."

"I know 'at, Lil." Peter placed his hands on her hips, a small smile on his lips. "And you won't believe me 'ow grateful I am for 'at. For 'avin' someone who loves me because of me." Peter bit his bottom lip. "It's just 'ard sometimes, ya know."

"What's hard?" Lilian asked.

Peter looked into Lilian's yellow-green eyes and sighed. "Not bein' able to treat ya 'ow society expects me to do. I never told ya 'at, but the day we got married, I was incredibly nervous. Jacob thought it was because I doubted me decision to marry ya."

A slight smile circled around Lilian's lips. "I remember that. Samuel came to me and told me that you were nervous."

"Yeah, but it wasn't the fact 'at I was about to marry ya which made me nervous. It was 'at I feared ya might walk out on me someday because ya would no longer want to live from pay check to pay check without bein' able to afford pretty much anythin'." Peter saw how Lilian was about to interject and quickly added, "And again, I know 'at ya don't think less of me because we would not get alon' without yer earnings; 'owever, it doesn't change the fact 'at society constantly gives me the feelin' 'at I'm failin' ya as a 'usband. And there are times I think 'at too. But now, for the first time in me life, I 'ave the means to get ya something luxurious. I know 'at I don't 'ave to, but I want to. This is probably the only time in me life I will ever be able to do 'at, so please, let me buy ya this dress. Just this once, I want to be the 'usband society expects me to be, even though I know ya don't expect 'at from me."

As Lilian stared into her husband's eyes, she was on the brink of tears. She had no idea that his small earning was weighing so heavily on Peter; so much in fact that he thought he was failing her. She placed her hand on his cheek and gently stroked it while she gazed into his eyes, a big smile on her face. "Alright, I let you buy this dress from me. But please, never think that you are failing me. If I had wanted a life full of luxury, I would have married Michael. But I chose you, because you are able to give me something he was not; something much more important to me. You are able to give me true happiness, to make me feel loved. And this I will choose over and over again, every day for the rest of my life. I will never walk out on you."

Peter wrapped his arms around her and embraced his wife in a tight hug. He kissed the top of her head and said, "I love ya, Lilian."

"I love you too, Peter. So very much." She stepped back and said, "But do ya really 'ave to buy me a bracelet too?"

Peter grinned. "Yes, I 'ave. And ya won't change me mind."


	10. Chapter 10

" _ **She knew she loved him when 'home' went from being a place to being a person" – E. Leventhal**_

 _The next day_

Peter found himself at his parents' dinner table, being the only male next to his father and nephews. All of his brothers and brothers-in-law were in basic training, and so his family now consisted mostly of the women.

" 'ow is it to fly a plane, Uncle Peter?" asked his oldest nephew Eric.

"It's amazin'. Ya feel so powerful when ya fly through the clouds, way above everyone else. And when ya look down, everythin' looks so small; the people look like ants. Trust me, ya feel alive when ya're in a plane," Peter raved.

Eric's eyes lit up. He continued to ask his uncle all kinds of questions about flying and the military, which Peter all answered. The rest of the family listened attentively, all interested in his stories too.

Halfway through lunch, Peter exclaimed, "Ya won't believe it! Jacob wants to enlist voluntarily even though 'is job gives 'im a pass. What a wanker!"

"What do ya mean wanker?" Mary asked. " 'ave we already forgotten 'at ya joined the RAF on a voluntarily basis too?"

"But 'at was before the war," Peter tried to defend himself.

"I think ya should show more respect for 'im," his father interjected. "Not everyone thinks 'at the service for one's country is a waste of time, Peter."

Lilian giggled at Mr. Newkirk's words. She playfully elbowed her husband in the ribs and said, "Told you."

* * *

After the family lunch, Peter found himself in his little sister's flat. He always had a much closer relationship to Mavis than he had to any other of his siblings, which was of course no surprise considering the small age gap between him and her. Thomas had already been twelve when he was born, and Emma, who was the one born before him had been six. Therefore, it was important to him to have some alone time with Mavis.

Mavis handed him a cup of tea before sitting down next to him at the table. "I'm so proud of ya for passin' yer test, Petey." When Mavis began to speak, she had trouble pronouncing the 'r', so she turned Peter into Petey. Now, almost twenty years later, she still called him by his nickname. And only because she was his younger sister did Peter allowed her to do that. As long as it was not in public. A guy had his pride to maintain, after all.

"I can't believe it, Mave. Three weeks ago, I 'ad no idea 'ow a plane works. And now I'm licensed to fly a fighter airplane for the RAF," Peter said and took a sip from his cup. "And 'ow is Jonathan doin'?"

" 'e's doing great. For him, the war is more of an adventure than anything else. With him being a journalist, he sees his future in combat as an opportunity to tell the people at home how war really is," Mavis explained while looking down at the small diamond ring on her finger.

"Well, I 'ave always told ya 'at 'e is barmy," Peter laughed. He followed his sister's gaze at her ring. "What about yer weddin' plans? Do ya want to wait?"

"Actually, 'at's what I wanted to talk about." She brushed a strand of her black hair out of her face. "Jonathan 'as already got 'is orders. After basic trainin', 'is unit will move out to France. 'is CO said 'at everyone will get one last 'ome leave before movin' out, and we wanted to get married then. It will be in the beginnin' of December, and I 'ad 'oped ya will be there. If it's possible of course," she quickly added.

"Of course I will be there! There is no way on earth I will miss the weddin' of me little sis," Peter declared. "I will probably be transferred around the same time. When I'm back at me base, I will immediately talk with me CO. I'll write ya then."

Mavis smiled. "Sounds great. 'opefully the others manage to be there too."

"I'm sure they will. Ya just 'ave to stay positive." He put a hand on his sister's shoulder and squeezed it gently. "And even if some are not able to come, I will be there. I promise ya 'at."

Mavis threw her arms around Peter's shoulders and hugged him tightly. "Thank ya, Petey. Ya know 'at ya are me favourite brother of all?"

"I would be offended if not!" he exclaimed, immediately dissolving in a fit of snicker.

Mavis nudged him against the shoulder and said, "If 'at's so, I might change me mind."

* * *

Peter continued to talk with Mavis for hours before leaving for home. This was his last evening with his wife and he planned to enjoy every single minute of it, laying on the couch and snuggling with her while listening to the radio.

When he arrived at their flat, he opened the door and called out, "I'm 'ome, luv!"

"Right on time!" he heard his wife calling from the kitchen. "Dinner is ready!"

He went into the kitchen and was greeted by the sight of a candlelight dinner. As his eyes landed on Lilian, a low, "Wow!" escaped his lips. She was dressed in the light blue dress he had bought for her, her chestnut brown her tied together in a ponytail with her yellow-green eyes sparkling brightly.

Lilian walked over to him and helped him out of his jacket. Then she led him to his chair, pouring him a glass of wine. When she put the plate in front of him, she said, "I hope you like it."

She settled across from him and Peter stared at her with his mouth wide open. "What is all of this?" he asked.

"Well, it's our last night together until who knows when. I wanted it to be nice."

"Yes, but I thought we were goin' to spend a cosy night on the couch," Peter said. "Ya didn't 'ave to go through all this work."

"Oh, I want that too. And we'll do it after dinner. And I know that I did not _have to_ , but I _wanted to_ ," Lilian countered with the exact same words her husband had used against her the day prior.

Peter noticed that and a soft smile found its way onto his face. "Thank ya, luv. Ya're the best."

Lilian smirked. "I know." She took her wine glass and held it up. "To a wonderful evening."

Peter raised his glass too, letting it clink against Lilian's. "To a wonderful evenin' with me amazin' wife." They began to eat, and after the first bite, he let out an enjoyable moan. "Ya won't believe 'ow much I missed yer cookin', luv. It's bloody marvellous!"

"I'm glad you like it," Lilian said. "Say, how was your afternoon with Mavis?"

"It was lovely. Next to ya, I missed 'er the most." Peter took a sip from his wine glass before saying, "She told me 'at she and Jonathan want to get married on 'is next 'ome leave in the beginnin' of December. Asked me if I could be there when possible."

"December? Will that not be shortly before your transfer to another base?" Lilian asked.

"Probably. Told 'er 'at I will be there. I wouldn't dream to miss me little sister's wedding." He smiled mischievously and put his hand on top of Lilian's. "And I wouldn't let an opportunity to see me beautiful wife slip."

* * *

After their delicious dinner, Peter went into the bedroom to change into his pyjama while Lilian cleaned the dishes. He emerged from the bedroom in his red flannel pyjama, the softest piece of night clothing he possessed; and the one Lilian loved the most to see on him. He went into the kitchen, seeing how his wife was cleaning the last of the pots. He sneaked up on her and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind.

Peter kissed his wife's temple and said, "Let me do the rest, luv. Go and change into somethin' more comfortable."

Lilian turned around in his embrace and placed her hands on his shoulders. She stroked over the red fabric, smiling. "Mhm, I like this pyjama so much! It's so smooth and cosy; makes me want to snuggle with you all night long."

" 'at's exactly why I wear it. Now go!"

He kissed Lilian on the cheek before letting go of her. She left the kitchen while he dried the last pieces of kitchenware. He put them away and turned to the fridge, getting himself a cold bottle of beer. Then Peter went into the living room and sat down on the couch. After taking a big gulp from his bottle, he laid down on the seating furniture, his upper body propped up against multiple pillows. He heard the door to the bedroom closing, which made him look in the direction of the doorframe, expecting his wife to be dressed in her pale yellow nightgown. But when she stepped into his sight, his eyes grew bigger. In front of him stood his unbelievable sexy wife, only dressed in one of his white button up shirts that ended right under her perfectly shaped backside. The sleeves were rolled up a bit so that they ended at her wrist, and Lilian had opened her ponytail, her brown hair falling down freely. To Peter, she looked like an angel.

He felt a warm jolt flowing through his body as he opened his arms. "Come 'ere, luv!"

Lilian walked over to him, but stopped right in front of the couch. She took his lighter from the table and lit up the tree candles on the couch table. Then she went back to the doorframe and switched the light off, creating a cosy atmosphere, before finally lying down right on top of Peter. She placed her head on his shoulder while Peter grabbed the blanket from the couch's backrest and covered them with it.

He wrapped his arms around Lilian, holding her in a tight embrace. "I love it when ya wear me clothes," he said. "Ya look incredible sexy in it."

"I know," Lilian answered with a sly smile. "Oh, how I have missed simply lying in your arms. I always feel so protected when you wrap your arms around me."

Peter kissed the top of his wife's head. "And feelin' yer body lyin' on top of me makes me feel complete. Right 'ere, this is where I want to be for the rest of me life. Nowhere else."

They fell silent, enjoying the feel of the other's body. As they listened to the slow tune coming from the radio, Peter tenderly rubbed over Lilian's back while she painted small circles on his chest with the tip of her finger.

It was Peter who broke the silence. "I can't believe 'at me little sis gets married."

"I'm sure she thought the same when we announced our engagement," Lilian joked.

Peter playfully huffed and began to tickle his wife. He had his left arm wrapped tightly around her back which cut of every possibility for Lilian to evade his attack.

She giggled and screamed, "No!...Please…no!"

" 'at's what ya get for bein' so naughty," Peter replied with a smirk.

Lilian continued to writhe, but her husband's grip was too tight. Completely out of breath she pleaded, "Alright…I surrender…Please…stop."

Peter immediately stopped. "I only accept yer surrender if ya kiss me," he demanded with a gleam in his grey-green eyes.

Lilian propped herself up on his chest and leaned down, playing her soft lips on his. It was a short kiss, and afterwards she laid her head back down on his shoulder, snuggling up with her husband.

Peter went back to stroking her back. "After Mavis' weddin', all of us Newkirk children will 'ave tied the knot."

"Your parents must feel proud yet at the same time sad," Lilian said.

"Why 'at?"

"Well, isn't it a sign that your children are really adults when they are married and have started their own families? I'm sure they feel old."

"I never thought about 'at." Peter stopped stroking Lilian's back and asked, " 'ow many children do ya want to 'ave?"

"I don't know," she answered. "Always figured I would have as many as God blessed me with."

"Sure, but there must be a number ya think of. One, three, or maybe seven like me parents?"

Lilian thought for a moment. "I guess if I think about it, I would say three to five. But if God decides we will have less or more, I won't complain. As long as our future children are healthy." She looked up at her husband and questioned, "And you?"

"The same. But like me father always says, "The more the merrier"."

Lilian laughed. "The unofficial Newkirk motto."

Peter joined in his wife's laughter. When it died down, he went back to stroking Lilian's back. After a while, he said, "I can't wait for our future children to be real."

"Me neither, Peter," Lilian answered. "Me neither."


	11. Chapter 11

" _ **You don't marry someone you can live with – you marry someone you cannot live without." – Unknown**_

 _December 4, 1939_

"Come on, Peter! We are going to be late if you don't hurry up," Lilian said as she stepped into the bedroom, seeing how her husband still stood in front of the full-length mirror and fiddled with his blue tie.

"Just one more minute. Ya took an eternity to get ready."

"Yeah, with your constant nagging in my ear to hurry up." Lilian walked over to Peter and turned him away from the mirror. She grabbed his tie and began to tie it while saying, "I thought the military had taught you by now how to tie your tie."

"I can tie me tie!" Peter exclaimed. "M'just excited for Mavis' weddin'." As Lilian put the finishing touches to his tie and stepped back from him, he whistled. "Me god, ya look beautiful!"

Lilian wore the light blue dress with the white pin-striped skirt Peter had bought for her on his last home leave. She had combined the dress with white shoes, small silver earrings and the bracelet he had bought along with the dress; it was made out of aquamarine blue gems in silver rectangular settings. Peter knew that the gems were fake considering that he could actually afford the bracelet, but it looked beautiful nonetheless. Especially if it was on his gorgeous wife's wrist. Although it did not match the rest of the outfit, Lilian also wore the golden necklace he had given her on their first Christmas they celebrated as a couple. Their wedding day was the only day she had taken it off; it was a sign of the beginning of their relationship.

"You're not too far behind, mister," Lilian answered while she took a good look at her husband.

Peter wore his RAF service dress, which consisted of a blue shirt and tie and a blue-grey suit.

"The wedding is going to be a treat to the eyes. All those men in sharp uniforms," Lilian smirked.

" 'ey! Remember, ya can look all ya want, but at the end of the day, I'm the one who will take ya 'ome," Peter answered with fake jealousy.

"Oh, really?" Lilian laughed. She wanted to tease her husband a bit and said, "And I was looking forward to picking up someone. Maybe Henry with his sailor uniform?"

" 'at wanker?"

Lilian grabbed Peter's suit jacket from the bed and helped her husband in it. "Your right, Henry's much too old for me. But what about Alexander? I'm sure he'll look dashing in his Army uniform."

After he had buttoned up his jacket and closed his belt, Peter turned around to face his wife. The sparkle in her husband's eyes showed Lilian how proud he was to wear his flying wings which were on his left chest.

Peter stepped closer to Lilian and placed his hands on her hips. " 'e might look good, but I'm sure 'e can't do this," he said and leaned down, pressing his lips softly on hers.

Lilian put her arms around his neck while Peter pulled her tightly against his body. He let his tongue travel over her soft lips before gently nibbling on her bottom lips. A quiet moan Lilian's lips, and Peter used the opportunity to sneak his tongue into his wife's mouth. After a sweet game of tug o' war, they broke apart but stayed in each other's arms.

Lilian smiled at her husband and said, "You're right; Alexander couldn't do that."

"I knew ya would say 'at."

Peter kissed Lilian on the cheek before stepping away from her. Lilian went to the bed and put on her winter coat and took her handbag before following her husband to the hallway. After they left the building their flat was in, Peter grabbed Lilian's hand as they made their way to the church where they had tied the knot almost one year and six months ago.

* * *

When they entered the church, Peter said, "Go find us a place. I'm goin' to pop me 'ead into Mavis' room to see 'ow she is doin'."

Peter pressed his lips shortly on his wife's cheek before heading to the backrooms. Lilian entered the church's main room, seeing how it was already packed with family and friends of Mavis and Jonathan. She walked down the aisle until she reached the front rows on the right side where her in-laws sat.

"There ya are!" Mary, who also sat in the second row, exclaimed. "Where's Peter?"

"Sorry for being late," Lilian said while she sat down in the second row, right next to the aisle. "Peter went to check on Mavis." Since it was warmer in the church than it was on the streets, Lilian buttoned up her winter coat and put it on the bench's backrest.

"What a gorgeous dress," Emma complimented. She sat together with her family in the first row.

Lilian smiled shyly. "Thank you. Peter bought it for me on his last home leave."

"Well, me brother definitely 'as taste," Emma said. Her eyes focused on something behind Lilian. " 'ey, Peter. 'ow's our little sister doin'?"

Peter sat down to Lilian's right. "She's doin' fine; nervous but fine."

"Well, who wasn't nervous on their weddin' day?" Mary asked with a laugh.

"I wasn't," Henry chipped in, who sat behind Lilian and Peter in the third row.

"Don't talk rubbish!" Peter exclaimed without turning to face his brother. "I could see ya shakin' from me place in the second row."

Everyone chuckled except for Henry, who shot daggers at Peter. Lilian smiled at her husband as she slipped her small hand in his, revelling in the memories of her own wedding day. Getting dressed in the same backroom Mavis was currently occupying, being calmed by her brother, walking down the aisle to Peter who had looked astonishing in his suit. And of course, being pronounced husband and wife; the moment Peter and she became a family for everyone to see. Peter squeezed her hand and looked at her, a big smile on his face. His eyes were sparkling and Lilian knew he was thinking about the exact same day.

Lilian had just placed her head on Peter's shoulder when someone tapped on her shoulder. She turned her head to see that it was Nellie, Mavis' best friend and maid of honour. She was dressed in a pastel purple dress and her blonde hair was tied into a bun.

"Could ya please come with me?" Nellie asked.

"Is everythin' alright with Mavis?" Peter asked, a hint of concern evident in his voice.

"Yes, it's just 'at…," Nellie's voice trailed off, not finding the right words.

"Probably just some female problems," Lilian offered.

"Yes, 'at's it! Just didn't know 'ow to phrase it," Nellie said relieved.

Lilian squeezed Peter's hand. "I'm back in a second."

Lilian rose to her feet and followed Nellie out of the church's main room. All the while, Peter watched her, utterly confused about Nellie's behaviour.

* * *

When Lilian stepped into the bride's backroom, she was greeted by Mavis standing in front of the full-length mirror. The dress she wore was snow white and loosely in the style of a Cinderella dress. Because of the icy temperatures that the beginning of December brought to London, she wore an equally white bolero jacket on top with the sleeves ending at her wrist. The colour of the dress stood in high contrast to Mavis' raven black hair, which had been braided into a French plait.

"Hello, Mavis," Lilian said while Nellie closed the door behind her, waiting in the hallway outside of the room.

Mavis turned to look at her sister-in-law. " 'ey, Lilian."

"Is everything alright?" Lilian asked with concern. "Peter said you were a bit nervous. Is that why I should follow Nellie?"

"Not exactly." Mavis sighed and sat down at the couch in the middle of the room. She took the flower bouquet from the small table next to the couch and gazed at it. "Do ya think I do the right thin'?"

Lilian sat down next to her. "The right thing? Are you doubting your decision to marry Jonathan?"

"No, but…" Mavis closed her eyes. "I asked Nellie to get ya because ya are the last one of us who got married and because I'm sure Peter would not understand. Besides, I value yer opinion; ya're like a real sister to me."

Lilian had to swallow upon Mavis' words which moved her to tears. She placed her hand on Mavis' wrist and softly said, "You are like a real sister to me too. So let us go through this step for step. Are you doubting your love for Jonathan?"

"No!" Mavis exclaimed. " 'e's the sweetest guy I 'ave ever been with. When I look into 'is eyes, I see me future in them. With 'im. Jonathan is the only one I can picture meself growin' old with."

"That's good to hear. But what makes you think you might do the wrong thing by marrying Jonathan?"

Mavis sighed again and closed her eyes as she felt tears welling up inside her. "It's the timin'. I mean, look around us. All me brothers are dressed in a military uniform; Jonathan wears one too. 'e, Peter, and most of the others are gettin' transferred to another English town or to France in the next week. We're at war, Lilian. Who knows if all of them come back to us? What if Jonathan will not come back? I will be a widow before I even was a wife."

"I know that the time is frightening. Everyone is worried for their husband, brother, uncle, father. We're at war, Mavis, and all of us know what has happened during the last one; whether because we lived through it or because of stories we've been told. But trust me: your fear for Jonathan will not vanish if you not marry him today and if you remain girlfriend and boyfriend for the war. It's scary to think about it, but Jonathan could die no matter if you marry him or not." Lilian had to stop for a moment before she found the strength to continue. "Just like Peter could die. Or Thomas. Or Henry. Or Alexander. But don't let this frightening situation take away the joy of marrying the love of your life. Don't think about what could happen in the future. Just focus on your love for Jonathan. Enjoy every second you have with him until he ships out to France."

Mavis slowly raised her glance at Lilian, a small smile circling around her lips. "Ya're right, Lilian. Thank ya very much for lendin' me a sympathetic ear."

Lilian gave her a hug, careful to not damage her sister-in-law's outfit. "No need to thank me. We're family." She backed away and said, "And now I want you to enjoy your last minutes of being an unmarried woman. Look at yourself in the mirror once more, let Nellie tell you calming words, and then you go out there, take your father's arm and walk down the aisle to Jonathan. Alright?"

"Alright."

Lilian smiled at Mavis one more time before leaving the small bridal room. As she stepped out of the room, she saw Nellie leaning against the wall across from the room.

"Everything's fine," Lilian said. "But I think she could use her maid of honour now."

Nellie's face showed her relief while she walked past Lilian into the room. Lilian closed the door behind Nellie and made her way back into the church's main room.

When she sat down next to her husband, Peter asked, "What was the problem?"

"Like I said, just some female trouble," Lilian answered with a grin on her face. "Nothing you need to worry about."

Peter wanted to say something further, but he was cut off by the organ that started to play. Everyone turned to see Nellie walking down the aisle. When she reached the front of the church where Pastor North, Jonathan, and his best man stood, Mavis and her father stepped into the main room. Everyone rose to their feet and watched how the bride slowly walked up to the groom. After William Newkirk passed over his daughter to his soon to be son-in-law, everyone sat down again. Peter slid his arm around Lilian's shoulder, prompting his wife to lean closer against him.

They listened to Pastor North's speech and eventually, he asked for the bride and groom's vows. After Mavis and Jonathan each spoke heart-melting words, they received the wedding rings from their maid of honour and best man.

Peter moved his mouth to Lilian's ear, and while Jonathan repeated the words Pastor North told him, Peter whispered the words he had said on his own wedding day.

"With this ring, I, Peter Newkirk…Take ya, Lilian Wheeler…To be me wedded wife…I promise to love and 'onour ya, through sorrows and joys, through sickness and 'ealth…Until death do us part."

He kissed his wife on the cheek and looked back at the front of the church, seeing how Jonathan slipped the wedding ring on his sister's ring finger. Then it was Lilian who moved her mouth to his ear and also whispered the words she had spoken on her wedding day.

"With this ring, I, Lilian Wheeler…Take you, Peter Newkirk…To be my wedded husband…I promise to love and honour you, through sorrows and joys, through sickness and health…Until death do us part."

She repeated her husband's actions and kissed him on his cheek before watching how Mavis slipped the wedding ring on Jonathan's finger. Lilian leaned back against Peter's shoulder while Pastor North pronounced Jonathan and Mavis husband and wife. As Jonathan kissed Mavis, everyone started to applaud the newlywed couple. When they walked down the aisle a while later, Lilian watched them, but in her mind, it was she and Peter who walked out of the church after their own wedding.

* * *

Hours later, the wedding reception was in full swing. People were dancing or mingling, talking and laughing with each other. Especially the children had a lot of fun while they were playing with each other.

Lilian sat at a table with Mavis and watched the crowd. Then the music changed to a slow song and the many couples found their way to the dancing floor.

From the right side of the hall came Jonathan, who held his hand out to Mavis while asking with a smirk on his face, "May I abduct my wife for this dance?"

"Of course," Lilian said and watched how Jonathan led Mavis to the middle of the dance floor, both staring into each other's eyes as they swayed in time with the music.

Lilian was completely wrapped up in watching the other people dance that she did not notice how someone approached her. Suddenly, she heard a voice asking, "May I 'ave this dance?"

Lilian turned her head to the left and saw Peter standing next to her, a broad smile on his face and his hand stretched out to her. She placed her hand in his and stood up from her chair. Peter manoeuvred them through the mass of dancing couples to a free spot on the dance floor. He wrapped his right arm around his wife's waist and pulled her close to his body. The other hand had a gentle grip around Lilian's small hand. Peter felt how Lilian placed her head on his shoulder, which made him lean down and place a tender kiss on her chestnut brown hair.

"I still can't believe that only last year, we were the one's getting' married," Peter said after a while.

"Feels like it has happened yesterday," Lilian answered. "You know what I cannot believe?"

"What?"

"That you leave for England's east coast to fight the Germans in a week."

"Don't think about 'at," Peter said as he kissed his wife's head again. "Let us enjoy the next week without thinkin' about me transfer."

"How should I not think about this, Peter? I'm thinking about you and Samuel every waking moment."

Peter moved Lilian's hand against his chest, placing it over his heart. "No matter where I am, I'm only a heart beat away from ya. Whenever ya feel alone or scared, just close yer eyes and I will be there. Always."


	12. Chapter 12

" _ **The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him." – G.K. Chesterton**_

Three days before his transfer to the east coast, Peter found himself in his favourite pub together with his best friend Jacob. Since Luke had already been shipped out to France, it was only the two of them spending a last night together. Peter would spend the last remaining days with his wife, and so this was the last occasion where he could spend some time with his best friend. And with all the other regulars of the pub too.

After two hours of drinking and talking with each other and Walter, the owner of the pub, the two friends retreated to the dart board. Peter grabbed the three darts and positioned himself in front of the dart board to start the game. While they played, they continued to talk.

" 'ow do ya feel?" asked Jacob when it was Peter's turn again.

"Concernin' what?" Peter asked before throwing the first dart.

"Yer transfer. 'ow is Lilian doin?"

Peter sighed. "She tries to act stron', but I can see 'at with every day me transfer comes closer, she gets more nervous and more tense." He threw the last dart. "I'm mostly sad about bein' so far away from 'er. I'm proud of havin' succeeded in getting' me flyin' wings; and 'at so fast. But I would rather stay 'ere in London with Lil." Peter walked to the board and wrote his points down on the blackboard next to it. He took the darts and handed them to Jacob. "But it's war. So me wishes are not important. I 'ave to go where the RAF wants me to go."

"I think all of us would rather not be at war and stay where we are," Jacob said as he stepped in front of the board.

"Well, ya can stay 'ere," Peter pointed out. He saw how Jacob bid his lip, and his own jaw dropped to the floor. "Cor, ya've signed up, didn't ya?"

Jacob turned to face his friend. "I'm leavin' for basic trainin' tomorrow."

"I can't believe it!" Peter exclaimed. " 'ow can ya throw away yer luck of bein' needed for the daily life?"

"Because it's no luck for me! I want to fight. I want to 'onour me father and take revenge. I can't do 'at by deliverin' letters to the people of Stepney."

"Ya don't 'onour yer father by killin' another person. And ya bloody well do not 'onour 'im by getting' yerself killed," Peter raged.

"Who says I'm going to be killed?" Jacob said. "Just because ya go to war doesn't automatically mean 'at ya get killed."

Peter took a deep breath and closed his eyes to calm himself down. After three deep breaths, he opened his eyes again and asked, "What does yer mom say about this?"

"Nothin'," Jacob answered.

"Nothin'?" Peter repeated puzzled. "I don't believe 'at."

Jacob shrugged. "Well, she doesn't know it yet."

"What?" Peter exclaimed. "Ya 'aven't told 'er? 'ow could ya?" He narrowed his eyes. "Ya're not only an idiot, but also a shitty 'uman bein'. Ya leave tomorrow! When 'ave ya planned to tell 'er?"

"I thought I do it tomorrow; right before I leave. So 'at she won't try to talk me out of it."

Peter shook his head. "Ya are such a wanker, do ya know 'at?"

"Aw, come on, Peter! Don't be mad at me," Jacob pleaded. "This is probably the last time we'll see each other until the war is over. Let's 'ave fun together!"

Peter stared at Jacob for a while. Then he sighed and said, "Alright. But it doesn't change the fact 'at I think ya're barmy."

* * *

The two friends continued to talk and play dart till way into the night. Suddenly it was two in the morning, and Jacob had to leave since he had to visit his mother early in the morning. Together they left the pub and walked through the quiet streets of Stepney until their ways parted. Peter stopped and looked at Jacob before he pulled his childhood friend in a tight hug.

"Stay safe, Jacob," Peter murmured. "I want to drink a pint with ya and Luke after the war."

"Ya too, Peter." Jacob squeezed him tightly and clapped on his back. He stepped back and smirked, "Ya buy the first round."

"And ya the second," Peter said.

Jacob smiled and said, "See ya after the war." Then he turned around and headed in the direction of his flat.

Peter watched his friend go and called after him, "See ya after the war."

When Jacob had vanished in the dark, Peter headed for his own flat. As he reached the building with his flat, he quickly walked up the stairs and quietly opened the door. Trying not to wake his wife, Peter slowly walked through the hallway to the bathroom, carefully closing the door behind him. Since he knew that he would come home when Lilian was already fast asleep, he had put his pyjama in the bathroom to change into it. Peter left his clothes hanging over the edge of the bath tub and sneaked into the bedroom, always making sure to be as quiet as possible. Which was a bit difficult considering that it was pitch-dark. But luckily, he had memorized his bedroom by now and knew exactly where everything was standing. He successfully managed to reach their marital bed and slipped into it next to his wife. Lilian lay on her left side and so Peter snuggled up close to her and wrapped his right arm around her small body. As he placed his head on the pillow, he felt how Lilian put her hand on top of his, lacing their fingers together.

"Goodnight, darling," murmured Lilian sleepily.

"Goodnight, luv. Sorry for wakin' ya."

"You don't have to be sorry. I'm always only half asleep when you don't lie next to me," Lilian said.

Peter pressed his lips on his wife's neck and gave her a quick kiss. "I'm 'ere now."

Without saying anything else, Lilian drifted off to sleep. Peter followed her quickly, his arm protectively slipped around his wife, pulling her close to him.

* * *

The next morning, Peter and Lilian started their day with a late breakfast.

"You came home late last night," Lilian stated as she poured a bit of milk in her tea.

"Yeah, time just flew by," Peter said. He put down the newspaper he was reading and sighed. "Jacob told me 'e 'as signed up for the army. Must be already on his way to basic trainin' by now."

Lilian looked at her husband and said, "Well, that's no surprise. I was sure that it was only a matter of time before he voluntarily enlisted." She reached out and placed a hand on Peter's. "How are you feeling, darling?"

"M'fine," Peter answered. "If this wanker wants to go to war, who am I to stop 'im?"

"Are you sure?" Lilian asked.

She knew that her husband never liked to share negative feelings, but his body language spoke another language. However, she also knew that pressing him into sharing his feelings with her only ended in a fight. And she did not want to spend the remaining days with her husband trying to make up with him.

Peter placed his other hand on top of Lilian's and squeezed it gently. He flashed her a smile and said, "I'm sure, luv."

Lilian returned the smile. "Different topic. How do you feel about your performance at the Palladium tonight? Are you excited?"

After having heard about Peter's home leave, his former boss and owner of the Palladium visited him a few days ago and asked if he could fill in for a magician who fell sick. But it was not an ordinary show. Today the Palladium hosted the Lord Mayor of London, who was scheduled to visit the theatre to demonstrate his closeness to London's world of art. And knowing how the people had loved to see Peter when he was a headliner there, his former boss first thought of him in his search for a replacement. And Peter had agreed without hesitating one moment.

"I feel great! It's not everyday 'at I get to perform in front of our lord mayor. But I'm also excited to see all of me fellow performers again." Peter leaned forward and asked in a sweet tone, "Ya will be comin', don't ya?"

"Of course I will!" Lilian exclaimed. "For nothing in the world would I miss my husband performing for the Lord Mayor of London."

"Great," Peter said. "But let's finish up our breakfast. Ya 'ave to judge the tricks I planned for me performance."

* * *

 _Later that night..._

After a successful performance with a standing ovation, Peter found himself together with his wife in his dressing room, enjoying a glass of champagne that his former boss had placed in his room.

"You were amazing, darling!" Lilian exclaimed. "The crowd loved you. And if my senses did not betray me, the Lord Mayor loved it too."

"It felt great to be on stage again. I really missed the other performers, the excitement only minutes before the performance, seein' the smiles on the audience's faces. I loved every minute of it," Peter raved.

Lilian only smiled at her husband's joyful mood, not finding the right words to capture what she was feeling. During his performance, she had felt how her heart almost busted with joy at seeing how Peter enjoyed the stage. It was evident that being the centre of attention was the place he loved to be; especially when the people applauded him. And in the thirty minutes of his performance, Lilian had forgotten that this was just a one-time act and that her husband would leave her in two days.

Peter put his glass on the dressing table and stepped closer to his wife, wrapping his arms around her. "Ya know why I 'ad so much fun?"

"Because the Lord Mayor was watching you?" Lilian guessed.

Peter shook his head. "Who cares about 'im? No, the reason I loved it so much was because I pictured meself standin' on stage the day we first met. Spottin' yer captivatin' smile in the audience, almost forgettin' 'ow to breath, knowin' 'at I 'ad to see ya after the show. And of course, walkin' ya 'ome and fallin' in love."

Lilian felt how her heart exploded over her husband's sweet words. She stared into his sparkling grey-green eyes, and as a small tear ran down her cheek, she pulled his head down with her hands and gave him a passionate kiss. She felt how one hand left her back which seconds later found its way into her hair.

They would have continued their passionate tongue dance if not for a knock on the door. They broke apart and Peter sighed in frustration at the sudden interruption of his lip service.

Lilian smirked at him as she sat down at the big table on the wall. "I think you should call them in."

Peter shot his wife a glare before calling, "Come in!"

The door opened and in stepped his former boss, Mr. Marsh. But he was not alone. Behind him entered Sir William George Coxen, the Lord Mayor of London. Lilian immediately rose to her feet as soon as she spotted him while Peter's eyes grew bigger.

"My Lord Mayor, this is the biggest headliner at our house. Peter, the Right Honourable Lord Mayor wishes to see you," Mr. Marsh said after having entered the small room.

Before Peter was able to say something, Sir Coxen spoke. "That was a great show; I really enjoyed it. What is your name?"

"Peter…Peter Newkirk, Me Lord Mayor," Peter nervously said. Though he did not care much about the high and mighty, standing face to face with one made his heart beat faster.

Sir Coxen looked past Peter. "And who is that enchanting young lady behind you?"

Peter looked at Lilian and stretched his arm out. Lilian walked up to him and wrapped her left arm around his waist, leaning a bit into his side.

" 'at is me wife, Me Lord Mayor," Peter said as he put his hand on her hip.

"Lilian Newkirk, My Lord Mayor. I'm honoured to make your acquaintance."

"The honour and pleasure are all mine." Sir Coxen stared at Lilian for a moment, making her feel quite uncomfortable.

Lilian leaned closer into her husband's side and placed her right hand on his chest in an attempt to make it clear that she was already taken. Peter noticed Sir Coxen's leering gaze and wrapped his arm tighter around his wife.

Then the lord mayor shifted his gaze at Peter and asked, "Have you already been called up?"

Gulping down his anger and jealousy over the lord mayor's lewd stare, Peter answered, "Yes, Me Lord Mayor. I'm a fighter pilot with the RAF, stationed in Martlesham 'eath."

"I wish you good luck," Sir Coxen said. "Well, I just wanted to exchange a few words with the best performer the Palladium has to offer. But I have to go now. Come home healthy."

Sir Coxen turned around and left the small dressing room. Mr. Marsh quickly followed him and closed the door behind him. Peter went to the door and locked it, turning around and leaning against the door.

"Finally, alone," he said.

"I'm glad he left," Lilian said as she walked back to the table, also turning around to lean against it. "His gaze made me feel uncomfortable."

"Me too, luv. But 'e's gone now." Peter walked over to his wife and wrapped his arms around her small body. "Where were we? Oh, yes, I remember." He smirked and leaned down, pressing his lips on Lilian's mouth.

Lilian slipped one arm around his shoulders and with her other hand she combed through his black hair. She felt Peter nibbling at her bottom lip, which made Lilian open her mouth. It was instantly invaded by his sweet tongue while he pressed his body closer against hers. As his tongue intertwined with Lilian's, his hands slipped down to her thighs and he lifted her up on the table. He stepped between her legs and let his right hand travel along the inside of her thigh underneath the skirt of her dress.

Lilian squeaked and broke away from Peter. "Here?" she asked in a disbelieving tone.

Peter grinned, leaving his hand underneath his wife's dress. "Don't tell me ya 'ave never thought about doin' it 'ere."

Without answering his question, Lilian questioned, "What about if someone knocks? Or worse, what if someone hears us?"

"Who should knock? The lord mayor was already here." Peter gave his wife a seductive smirk. "And if someone 'ears us, we know 'at we do somethin' right." Lilian slapped him against his shoulder which made him laugh. "It was only a joke." He leaned in and put his mouth next to his wife's ear. "We just 'ave to be quiet."

Peter kissed around her ear while gently pushing Lilian with her back on the table. When he nibbled on her earlobe, Lilian knew that any attempt of resistance was futile since she always got aroused when he did that. She pulled him even closer and opened her legs a bit more, letting her hands travel down to his sharp backside while quietly moaning with pleasure.

"I knew ya would agree with me," Peter triumphantly said as he pushed Lilian's skirt up, with that beginning their time of passion.

* * *

 _Two days later…_

Once again Lilian found herself at the railway station. But this time she knew that it would be a long time until she would see her husband again. With her head placed on Peter's shoulder she waited for the train that would bring him to RAF Martlesham Heath, which was located near Woodbridge in Suffolk on the east coast of England. It was the most eastern located airbase in the whole United Kingdom, and with that one of the first airbases that was going to be put on standby when the Germans would start coming.

"Are you sure that you have everything?" Lilian asked for the hundredth time, trying to destroy the burdening silence between her and Peter.

"Yes, luv," Peter answered. "I've taken everythin' with me from Northolt, and after ya washed me clothes, I put everythin' back in me duffel bag."

"And your orders?"

"In the inner pocket of me jacket." He squeezed her gently. "Don't worry, luv. I've got everythin' with me." They went back to standing in silence, but Peter felt that his wife continued to worry. Feeling the need to comfort her, he said, "Don't worry about me. The Jerries 'ave not even started to come close to us. And once they're comin', I'll make sure 'at they won't reach ya." Peter moved Lilian's head up so that he was looking into her eyes. "And most importantly, I won't let them kill me. I promise ya 'at."

"You don't know that," Lilian said, trying hard to suppress the tears she felt were welling up.

"Ya're wron' about 'at." Peter nudged her head gently from his shoulder and moved himself in front of her. He reached into the collar of his turtleneck and pulled the silver necklace out his wife had given him the day he had left for basic training. "Ya 'ave given me this so 'at it would protect me. And it will protect me."

Peter put the necklace back in his collar. Then he drove with his hands over Lilian's upper arms. She stepped forward and threw her arms around his back, burying her face in his chest. Peter placed his arms around her waist, holding her close to him.

"I love you, Peter. You are everything to me; so please come back in one piece."

Peter gave Lilian a kiss on her head. "I love ya too, Lil. More than I 'ave ever loved another person." He kissed her head again. "I promise ya to come back safely."

They continued to stand like this, embraced and lost in their own thoughts. Then they heard a train coming into the station.

"Me train is 'ere," was all Peter said.

Lilian removed her head from his chest and looked up into his warm eyes. Peter brushed with his thumb over her cheek and leaned down, giving her a sweet and tender kiss. When the train stopped at the platform, they broke apart, simply staring into the other's eyes while the people left the train. Peter stepped away from his wife and grabbed his duffel bag while smiling warmly at her.

"Goodbye, Lil," he said.

"Goodbye, Peter."

Lilian watched her husband entering the train and she felt her heart constricting; even more than when Peter had left for the first time. She watched the train leaving the station, watching after it and trying to soothe her heart with the thought that she would see Peter again eventually.

Neither of them knew that this was the last time they would see each other until April 1945.


	13. Chapter 13

" _ **If you are scared, just be scarier than whatever is scaring you!" - Thumper**_

 _Lisse, Netherlands, May 1940_

"How much longer do we have to stay here?" Colin yelled at his friends. "We're low on ammo and anti-tank guns."

"Until the chaps from Major Dunn have managed to catch up to us from Amsterdam. Then we can retreat," Samuel answered.

Three days ago, the Germans had started their advance through the neutral nations of Belgium, the Netherlands, and Luxembourg, and with that hitting Samuel's unit. Now their order was to stall the advance until other units had managed to move out from certain points before retreating towards the coast.

"How did this happen?" Colin asked. "For almost eight months we did nothing but watching the border and wait for an attack. And the Germans made not a single move. And out of nowhere, they made their move towards us." Colin slumped down in his foxhole. He directed his eyes at Samuel and said, "First Alexander gets killed, and now we are trying to hold our position, loosing man after man because we have to wait for some other chaps. Do you think we'll manage to get out of here?"

Samuel sighed. "Honestly? I don't know. All I know is that I **don't** know anything. I don't know if I survive another day, I don't know if we make it to Bruges, I don't know what will happen if we do." He slumped down next to Colin. "I don't know what will happen to Lilian if we don't make it."

Colin placed a hand on Samuel's knee. "I understand you. I'm worried sick about Hannah."

Samuel grunted. "Somehow I'm glad it didn't work out with Grace. At least I don't have to worry about her."

"I really thought you two were made for each other."

"Me too." Samuel shook his head as he felt tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. "But enough of that. There's a war on, you know."

A small laugh escaped Colin's lips. "Oh, that's what it is? And I wondered why I was spending the last months in mud and rain."

This comment made Samuel laugh with his full heart which quickly radiated to Colin, who cracked up too. With the sounds of artillery fire and machine-gun fire in the background belonging to the units stationed in the outskirts of the town, the two friends sat in a muddy foxhole, laughing their lungs out to forget the fear that was controlling them; even if it was only for a short while.

* * *

 _London, England_

Lilian sat on the couch in the living room as she read Peter's newest letter.

 _My darling love,_

 _I'm feeling fine, and you? The last days have been quite busy for me and the other chaps. We were ordered to patrol the Channel up to the French coast to protect our boys there from the German Air Force. I'm sure you have heard in the news about the German Army attacking us. Well, I know from my CO that the British High Command is currently trying to figure out how to halt the German offensive._

 _But don't worry about Samuel! I'm sure he knows what to do; he is a great soldier and an even better human being._

 _But enough of that. What's new in London? I heard that many children that were evacuated to the country side have returned to the city. That must be a lot of work for you and your colleagues! I only hope that your work is not too stressful. I know that you love your children, but they can be quite a handful._

 _My heart is craving for you. It's been so long since I last saw you! Whenever I'm not in the air, I'm lying in my bunk and think about you. I close my eyes and picture us cuddling on the couch on a Sunday afternoon, doing nothing except enjoying the company of each other the whole day long. I hope that I will get a home leave once the Germans are stopped._

 _Until then,_

 _Love Peter_

Lilian put the letter down, a feeling of warmth filling her body; as always when she read a letter from her husband. Even with being miles apart away from her, Peter knew exactly what was on her mind. His ability to cheer her up amazed Lilian. But even his fierce assurance that he and his squadron tried everything to help the retreating Army soldiers did not help to erase her fear for her brother. Every newscast told her that the British Army was pushed further back to the coast, and the last letter she had received from Samuel arrived one month ago. Every quiet hour she had to herself, Lilian worried about the well-being of her brother. The fear was so immense that it was usually accompanied with an extreme painful headache. She knew that she needed to calm herself down and stop thinking about the worst-case scenario, but she could not help it. The possibility of losing her only brother, the only person who had always supported and looked out for her, was driving her crazy. Lilian could not imagine living in a world where her brother was not in it.

She sighed and rubbed her temple, feeling the headache coming again. Lilian rose to her feet and walked to the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea; hopefully it would ease her headache. As she poured water into the kettle, there was only one thought on her mind:

 _Please God, let this war end soon._

* * *

 _Martlesham Heath, England_

Newkirk sat in the Mess Hall together with Parker and Collins, eating their lunch meal.

"I'm so tired," Parker said after a yawn left his lips.

"Me too. Why does it always have to be us who are being called into the air?" Collins complained. Right after breakfast, their squadron was ordered to roam the French coast to give protection to the British soldiers, and they just came back about five minutes ago.

"Stop whinin' ya two!" Newkirk exclaimed. He took a sip from his cup of tea and said, "It's our duty to protect them."

"I know that. I'm just saying that someone else could also fly out for once. For example, Robinson's squadron," Collins defended himself.

" 'is squadron is also constantly in the air," Newkirk informed his friend.

Parker raised an eyebrow. "Since when are you finding your military duty so important? I thought you hate the military."

"I do 'ate the military." Newkirk sighed as he looked down into his cup. "But I picture me brother and two brothers-in-law bein' one of the soldiers attacked by the Germans. No matter 'ow little sleep I get, I'm never feelin' tired since I do this for them. If me lackin' sleep 'elps gettin' Alexander, Samuel, and Jonathan safely back 'ome, I don't mind feelin' sleepy and exhausted." He looked up and was greeted with a pair of amazed faces. "What?"

"Who would have thought you could be so emotional?" Parker said, a teasing tone in his voice.

"Leave off!" Newkirk hissed.

"Aw, come on, Newkirk! You always act like a tough guy, but deep down you do have a heart." Collins smirked. "Now I see what your wife sees in you."

Parker and Collins broke into laughter, which made Newkirk shake his head. He took another sip from his cup and said, "Ya two are such tossers."


	14. Chapter 14

_" **War demands sacrifice of the people. It gives only suffering in return."**_ **_– Frederic Clemson Howe_**

 _Lisse, Netherlands_

Another two days had passed since Samuel and Colin had laughed their lungs out in a muddy foxhole. There was still no sign of the men from Major Dunn they were ordered to wait for, the pressure from the German artillery was almost unbearable, and Samuel's unit was growing smaller and smaller. He did not tell any of his men to not frighten them, but Samuel doubted they could hold out any longer in the small village they were in. How should he fight a whole German battalion with a mere unit of 25 men? He looked at the front line out of the shop's window that his unit had transformed into a headquarter. His unit was cut off from the rest of the battalion in a German surprise attack five days ago, and since the rest of the battalion was already moved forward towards the coast, the British Expeditionary Force headquarter decided that it was better for Samuel's unit to wait for reinforcement coming from Amsterdam. But seeing how more and more of his men die, and how some scattered soldiers joined his unit, completely exhausted from fleeing from the enemy for days made Samuel doubt the order.

His gaze shifted to the right, landing on an area full of makeshift crosses. Samuel's head dropped and he sighed as he made a fateful decision. If the reinforcement from Amsterdam did not arrive today, he would disobey the order and retreat with his men. Though he would be court-martialled, it was a small prize to pay for stop seeing how the men who rely on him get killed because they were not allowed to leave their position.

Samuel turned around when he heard the door open. In stepped Colin and an unfamiliar man, his face and hands covered in dirt.

"Samuel, this is Sergeant Fisher," Colin informed him. "He belongs to Major Dunn's troop."

Samuel walked over to him and shook his hand. "Good to see you, Sergeant Fisher. I'm Sergeant Wheeler, acting commander of this little bunch here."

"It's good to see you too, Sergeant Wheeler. You can't believe how happy I am to have made it out of Amsterdam," Sergeant Fisher said. He was the same height as Samuel, around six foot, with raven black curls and golden-brown eyes. His chin was covered in black beard stubbles underneath a layer of dirt.

"How bad is it?" Samuel asked.

Sergeant Fisher sighed and shook his head. "It's awful. We were surrounded by German artillery, infantry, and tanks. Men were killed every minute. But suddenly, the Germans stopped, and we took the chance and made our run to your little village. How is your situation?"

"Just as bad." Samuel pointed to the door and said, "Let's take a look at your men and then make a plan on when to leave this place."

Samuel, Sergeant Fisher, and Colin left the small shop and headed to the village's centre where Sergeant Fisher's men waited for him. When Samuel spotted them, his jaw dropped to the floor. In front of him stood about a dozen dishevelled men who were being cared of with water, food, and cigarettes by some of his own men.

"Where is the rest?" Samuel asked.

"That is the rest," Sergeant Fisher admitted sadly. "We are the only one's who made it out of Amsterdam."

"You mean Major Dunn –"

"Yes, he's dead," Sergeant Fisher interrupted. "My men might look awful and we are all exhausted, but they are still a clever bunch who are ready to fight. I was told we would fall under your command, Sergeant."

"That's right." Samuel walked closer to the men who rose to their feet and came to attention when they spotted him. Samuel returned to salute and said, "At ease. Please sit down again; you must be exhausted." He waited until everyone sat back on the edge of the fountain or on the ground before he continued. "I'm Sergeant Wheeler and this is my XO, Lance Corporal Price. I'm glad you have arrived in this small village. I understand that you are tired and exhausted, but I fear you can't rest so much. The Krauts are putting heavy pressure on us, and I would like to use this coming night as an opportunity to leave Lisse and head to The Hague."

"We would like to move to The Hague as soon as possible too, Sergeant," Sergeant Fisher said.

"Then it's settled. As soon as the dark has enveloped us, we will head west." Samuel turned to Colin and said, "Tell everyone to be ready by sunset."

Colin nodded and left for the foxholes on the front line.

Samuel turned back to the men and said, "There will be some warm food ready at around twelve. If you maybe have some rations left, I would suggest you give them to our cook so that he has more to cook from. But don't get your hopes up; the food is better than nothing, but worse than anything else."

* * *

 _Martlesham Heath, England_

Group Captain Davis sat at his desk, working on some papers for Air Commodore Atkinson Lawrence. His work was interrupted by a knock on the door, and he called the person in. He did not wonder who it was since he had requested for a certain someone to come to his office. Davis put the cap of the pen back on and placed it on the table, and looked up just in time to see Aircraftman Newkirk stepping into his office. His blue garrison cap was hanging over his shoulder, secured by the shoulder strap of his uniform jacket. Newkirk walked over to the desk, his body language showing Davis that he was a tad insecure of why he was called in his office.

As he arrived at his desk, Newkirk came to attention, giving him a brisk salute. "Ya wanted to see me, Group Captain?"

Davis returned the salute and pointed to the chair opposite from him. "Yes, Aircraftman Newkirk. But please, sit down."

Newkirk raised an eyebrow and remained standing. "Beggin' the Group Captain's pardon, but is this a trick? Wing Commander Spencer told us we should always remain standin' in front of a 'igher-ranked soldier."

Davis could not suppress a chuckle. "Good old Wing Commander Spencer; always the strict one." He smiled warmly at Newkirk and said, "Don't worry, Aircraftman. It's not a trick."

Still eying him warily, Newkirk eventually sat down. "Did I do somethin' wron', Sir?"

"What gives you that idea?" Davis asked puzzled.

"Well, I feel like a little lad bein' called to the 'eadmaster's office. Usually, 'at was not a good sign."

"No, nothing's wrong, Aircraftman. I just wanted to have a little chat with one of my most diligent and reliable airmen." Davis looked at Newkirk, who did not react to the compliment. "I've heard you're one of the few men not complaining about the lack of sleep and the many hours in the air." Again, no reaction. "I wonder why?" Davis asked.

"Complainin' about things I can't change doesn't 'elp anybody, Sir," Newkirk answered. "Besides, as bein' part of the Air Force, I'm in no position to complain. I still 'ave it much better than the soldiers scramblin' to get away from the Germans."

"I see. Not many airmen feel pity for the infantry. Do you have brothers stationed in Western Europe?"

Newkirk nodded. "Me older brother as well as me sister's husband and the brother of me wife. And also one of me best friends." He glanced at Davis and said, "Beggin' the Group Captain's pardon again, but ya did not call me to talk with me about me family, did ya?"

"You're right; there is another reason why I called you to my office." Davis opened the upper drawer of his desk and pulled out an envelope. Then he looked back at Newkirk and said, "The moment you stepped into Air Commodore Watson's office the day you arrived in Northolt, I knew you were special. And my instincts did not betray me. You are hardworking, clever, quick-thinking, and you learned flying faster than anyone I had ever trained. And the thing I like most is that you are not following my orders blindly, but often ask why. The leading generals might not like that, but it shows me that you want to understand why you are doing something. And I think the RAF needs more people like you in leading positions." Davis pushed the envelope towards Newkirk. "That's why I promote you to corporal. Congratulations, _Corporal_ Newkirk. Keep up the good work."

Newkirk stared at Davis, then the envelope, then Davis again. "Thank…thank ya, Group Captain. I promise to not let ya down."

"I'm sure you won't."

Newkirk took the envelope and looked inside; there were two patches of two-bar stripes.

"Now hurry and sew those stripes on your uniform," Davis said. "The next time we are being called into the air, I want to see them on you."

"Yes, Sir." Newkirk rose to his feet and gave Davis a salute. Then he walked to the door. But before he left the room, he turned around and said, "Thank ya for believin' in me."


	15. Chapter 15

" _ **No matter how dark the moment, love and hope are always possible" – George Chakiris**_

 _London, England_

Lilian sat at the kitchen table, reading the morning newspaper while having breakfast. It had been one week since the United Kingdom had Winston Churchill as a new prime minister. After the failure of Chamberlain's appeasement policy and the retreat of the Allied forces from Norway, he believed that the country needed a government backed by all parties; which he as the head of a government could not provide. Now, four days after Churchill's first speech to the House of Commons, Lilian was able to read the speech after one member passed on his transcript to the BBC, which said newspaper agency of course immediately published for the public to read.

" _I would say to the House, as I said to those who have joined this government: "I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears and sweat._

 _We have before us an ordeal of the most grievous kind. We have before us many, many long months of struggle and of suffering. You ask, what is our policy? I can say: It is to wage war, by sea, land and air, with all our might and with all the strength that God can give us; to wage war against a monstrous tyranny, never surpassed in the dark, lamentable catalogue of human crime. That is our policy._

 _You ask, what is our aim? I can answer in one word: It is victory, victory at all costs, victory in spite of all terror, victory, however long and hard the road may be; for without victory, there is no survival. Let that be realised; no survival for the British Empire, no survival for all that the British Empire has stood for, no survival for the urge and impulse of the ages, that mankind will move forward towards its goal._

 _But I take up my task with buoyancy and hope. I feel sure that our cause will not be suffered to fail among men. At this time I feel entitled to claim the aid of all, and I say, "come then, let us go forward together with our united strength"."_

Lilian sighed as she put the newspaper down on the table. Immediately her mind drifted to Peter and Samuel. "Victory at all costs". This phrase left a bitter taste in her mouth. It was not that she did not share Churchill's feelings and she totally understood his point of view. Europe had to be freed from the Nazis. But that the phrase came from Churchill somehow raised mixed feelings in her. She had not been alive for most of the Great War; the war ended when she was about nine months old. But she knew about Churchill's decision to attack Gallipoli, which costed hundreds of thousands of men's lives. Knowing that the person who was held responsible for this was now in charge of the country, and with that ultimately of every military decision made her stomach turn into a knot.

But Lilian also knew something else. She had to lay all her hopes for a safe return of her husband and brother in this man's hands. She had no other option. Doubting Churchill now, more than thirty years after Gallipoli, did not change what had happened back then and it definitely did not help for the future. The past was the past. The present was now. Lilian was going to trust her new prime minister with all her heart. Only united would they win.

So whatever Churchill wanted the people to do, Lilian would follow him. For Peter and Samuel.

* * *

 _Hook of Holland, Netherlands_

"What are we going to do now?" Sergeant Fisher asked while he was bend over a map on the ground. "We're surrounded by two sides of German tanks and infantry, by one side of a river, and by one side of the Northern Sea."

Samuel sighed and rubbed with his hand over his sweaty forehead. "What's the situation with the Germans?"

"The artillery units in the east are shooting at us with on-going persistence. In between the artillery guns there are machine guns and mortar squads. We're not 100% sure, but our scouts suspect about ten tanks hidden behind the lines," Colin reported.

"In the south, five more tanks arrived in the morning, raising the number of armoured weaponry to eighteen," Sergeant Watts explained. "They also put more mortar squads and machine guns at the front line, and in addition, our scouts reported that there was movement in the night. Seems like the Germans bring their tanks to the front lines."

"My guess, the Krauts prepare to attack us," Colin chipped in.

Samuel took in what his junior personnel had told him as he silently stared at the map in front of him. His mind was rotating, thinking about every possible scenario that was lying ahead of them. From a quick evacuation of the town to a blood-shedding battle ending in death and capture. He felt the stares of the other men on him, which showed him one thing clearly: they were relying on him. No one else. Only him. Which means whatever he was going to decide would mean the difference between living and dying for the men under his command.

"I don't want to sound pessimistic, Sir, but there is no way out," Sergeant Fisher said, breaking the silence. "We are no match against the Germans. Our unit is made up of thirty men, four machine guns, two mortar squads, no artillery and only two anti-tank guns. How are we supposed to fight against twenty-eight tanks?"

"Yeah, and I think we all agree that swimming back to England is no option," Sergeant Watts said sarcastically.

"Not swimming back to England, but crossing a river won't be a problem," Samuel finally said, his gaze locked on the map.

"What do you think, Samuel?" Colin asked, his eyes lightning up with hope.

"Fisher is right; trying to pick a fight with the Germans is a suicide commando. And since the Germans block the way on land, we have to make our way on water." Samuel pointed on the map and explained, "Tonight is new moon, which means the night will be pitch dark. We use this to do our own version of island-hopping. As soon as it's dark, we'll cross the river to Europoort using the small boats we have found to transport the guns and as many men as we can; the rest has to swim. Then we quickly move west towards to Rockanje and if we are lucky and find boats again, use them to cross the next river. If we manage to reach Havenhoofd tomorrow morning, then we have put enough space between us and the Germans to calmly use the small strips of land on top of the next three islands to march to Vlissingen. Then we just have to cross the river one last time, and we're back on mainland, close to the border to Belgium."

"That's a risky move, Sir," Sergeant Fisher interrupted. "Everything depends on whether we find boats in Rockanje."

"Do you have a better idea?" Samuel asked. "Either we risk moving across the islands, or we're getting crushed by the Germans." He gazed at the three men settled around the map. "Who's in?"

Without hesitation, Colin said, "I'm in."

"Me too," Sergeant Watts agreed. "I'd rather swim with an anti-tank gun on my back than getting captured by the Krauts."

Everyone looked at Sergeant Fisher, who was still staring at the map. In the end, he sighed and raised his gaze. "I'm in too, Sir. You're right; your plan is the only way."

A small smile found its way on Samuel's face. "Then it's decided. I want you three to inform the others and to prepare everything. But keep a low profile; it's crucial that the Germans don't get suspicious."

* * *

 _Martlesham Heath, England_

Newkirk lay on his bed after another exhausting mission. But sleep was the furthest thing on his mind; when he had reached the base, he was greeted by a letter of his wife lying on his bed. He immediately tore the envelope open and read the words of his wife that his heart was craving for.

 _Dear darling,_

 _I'm so proud of you! There was never an ounce of doubt in my heart that you would succeed in whatever you were doing. I know that you always act bold in front of other people, but I can see that you are doubting yourself when you are alone. And it hurts me to see you silently questioning yourself, because I know how great you are. Hopefully, you recognize your value now and act more confident._

 _Peter, I hope you understand now that not all officers are upper-class Brits that are only self-centred. From what I can read in your letters, Group Captain Davies seems like a clever man who is caring about the man under his command. And though you always said you don't care about the government because it had never done anything for you, you can't fool me. I'm your wife, and I know you much better than you think I do; I'm sure I sometimes know you even better than you know yourself. I know that you care about England and the people here, so please always think about us when you go in the air. I'm sure this will give you the reassurance you need to succeed in everything that is thrown at you. And my heart is certain that if you continue your great work, you will rise even higher; maybe even to the rank of pilot officer. Wouldn't that be funny? You, Peter Newkirk, always the first one to voice your dislike about officers, being promoted to an officer yourself? That would be an extraordinary turn of events._

 _I send you all the love I feel for you. At night when I go to bed, my lonely heart is craving for you, but I know that you must do what you are doing. In those lonely and cruel moments, I console myself with the thought that we will meet in our dreams. Because no matter how far apart we are, our hearts and minds are always connected with each other. And one day, the war will be over, and you can return to me and warm me with your strong embrace._

 _Love you to the moon and back,_

 _Lilian_

Newkirk began to beam with joy and pride while he put the letter back in the envelope. He could not thank the lord enough for giving him such a caring, loving, and supporting wife that was his backbone. Even after being married for almost two years, he still asked himself what he had done to deserve Lilian; his mind could simply not understand how such a wonderful woman chose him as her partner. He would probably never get a satisfying answer; he simply had to treasure every waking moment destiny was granting him with Lilian.


	16. Chapter 16

" _ **The soldier above all others prays for peace, for it is the soldier who must suffer and bear the deepest wounds and scars of war" – Douglas MacArthur**_

 _Blankenberge, Belgium, 23_ _rd_ _May 1940_

Samuel was sitting in the backroom of a pub that his unit had transformed into a commando base. Ever since they managed to escape from Hook of Holland using an incredible risky route across four peninsulas, he and his men had entrenched themselves in a town shortly behind the Belgian border. But luck was just not on their side. Right after having escaped from the Germans in the Netherlands, another German unit had encircled them in this Belgian coastal town. For almost a week now, Samuel's unit was under constant bombardment. Though they sought shelter in the buildings, a lot of soldiers had already been killed; now there were only fifteen men left.

He looked at the map that hang at one of the room's walls. With their last radio message, HQ had ordered Samuel to move his unit to Dunkirk to await an evacuation that was currently being prepared in London. Samuel sighed and shook his head. What did London think was the reason his unit was sitting in this town for a week? Because they liked the view on the coast? If Samuel had the opportunity to leave for Dunkirk, he would have long since done that? But with the German artillery and tanks surrounding Blankenberge, there was no way he and his unit would make it out alive if they tried to leave.

The door to the back room opened and Samuel slowly turned around. In stepped Sergeant Fisher, Technician Burton and Colin.

"You asked to see us, Sir?" Sergeant Fisher asked.

"Yes." Samuel waved the trio over to the map. "A message from HQ arrived earlier this day. They ordered us to move to Dunkirk to await an evacuation."

"Dunkirk? Where is that?" Colin asked.

Samuel pointed at the map. "It's a coastal town in France; about ten kilometres away from the Belgian border. It has the third-largest French harbour."

"And how far away is it from our position?" Sergeant Fisher questioned while he studied the map.

"About 80 kilometres," Samuel answered. "I'd say it takes us a day to get there."

"I agree to that, Sir. And it's not the distance that bothers me." Sergeant Fisher turned away from the map and looked at Samuel. "But do you have any idea how we get out of this town?"

"I have." Samuel looked at Technician Burton and ordered, "Start a radio connection to HQ."

"Yes, Sir." The young technician knelt down and started the radio, trying to get through to their headquarters.

A few minutes later, a voice rang out of the radio. "BEF Headquarters."

Technician Burton handed the microphone over to Samuel, who said, "Sergeant Wheeler, A Company, 2nd Battalion of the Royal Fusiliers. I need to speak to Brigadier Hawkesworth."

"Wait a moment, Sergeant," the voice said.

The line fell silent and while Samuel waited for a response, he stared at the other men in the room.

"What is your plan, Sir?" Sergeant Fisher asked.

"You will see."

There was a crack in the line and then a new male voice said, "Brigadier Hawkesworth. What can I do for you, Sergeant Wheeler?"

"Sir, earlier I got the message that my unit is supposed to move to Dunkirk and await evacuation."

"That's right, Sergeant. The evacuation will start in a few days. Is there a problem with that?"

"Just a slight one, Sir. You see, we are currently encircled in a coastal town in Belgium; it's called Blankenberge. There is no way we can move through the German lines. At least not without help," Samuel explained.

"What are you thinking about, Sergeant?"

"Sir, if you could arrange for an aerial ground attack by the RAF, my men and I could break through the lines in the confusion. It's the only way for us to leave this town or else we are getting killed or captured by the Germans."

There was no immediate response from the brigadier. The silence changed the atmosphere in the pub's backroom to a tense one, everyone hoping that Brigadier Hawkesworth would agree to Samuel's proposition.

Eventually, there was another crack in the line. "Alright, Sergeant. I will inform the RAF. Stay put for information on when the attack will start."

Samuel sighed in relief. "Thank you, Brigadier."

"Good luck," Brigadier Hawkesworth said before the line broke down.

Samuel handed the microphone back to Technician Burton and ordered, "Tell me as soon as you receive word on when we can expect the attack."

Technician Burton gave him a salute and said, "Yes, Sir." Then he quickly left the room.

Samuel turned to the other men, a small smile on his. "Now we have to wait."

* * *

 _Martlesham Heath, England_

Group Captain Davis rushed across the base as he headed to the barracks of his squadron. He had just received the order of an urgent ground attack mission that needed to be done immediately. But there had been another order attached; the reason why he personally made his way to inform his squadron and not his aide. An order he did not like at all. And the person involved would like it even less.

When Davis reached the barracks, he knocked and stepped in. As soon as his men had spotted him, they all jumped to their feet and gave him a brisk salute. He returned the salute and said, "Gear up, men! We just got word that a unit is encircled in a coastal town in Belgium and they need our help to break through the German lines and escape to Dunkirk. We start in ten minutes."

All the men immediately began to gather their gear and then rush outside. Davis watched them and when the person in question ran towards him, he said, "Not you, Corporal Newkirk."

Newkirk stopped in his tracks and looked at his CO, completely confused. "Why, Sir?"

Davis shrugged, not wanting to tell the truth. "Order from HQ. I don't know why."

Newkirk squinted his eyes. Over the years, countless pub fights and flirting with endless women made him an expert in reading body language. And the body language of his CO spoke volumes. "Beggin' the Group Captain's pardon, but ya are 'idin' somethin' from me, Sir."

"I'm not hiding anything from you, Corporal," Davis answered.

Newkirk shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Until now, he had tried his best to respect the hierarchy of the military, but something in him told him that Davis was hiding something from him. And Newkirk had never liked it when someone thought one could lead him up. "With all due respect, Sir, but when ya gave me me corporal stripes, ya had said 'at I'm one of yer best airmen. And 'at ya like 'at I always ask questions. So I'm askin', why doesn't 'eadquarters want me to fly this mission."

Davis gazed at the young man standing in front of him, having a hard time suppressing a proud smile. That was exactly the reason why he had promoted him in the first place. Eager to fly any mission and prove himself while at the same time not just following orders blindly. Inwardly, Davis debated with himself whether to tell Newkirk the real reason or not. Though he had strict orders to not tell him, Davis felt it was not right to hide it from the young airmen.

Finally, he sighed and looked Newkirk directly in the eyes. "The unit that is encircled in the town belongs to the Royal Fusiliers. Right now, its acting CO is Sergeant Samuel Wheeler; your brother-in-law."

Newkirk's first reaction was to simply stare at his CO. There was a ringing sound in his ears and he felt like someone had punched him in the stomach. "Samuel is encircled by the Germans?" he asked unbelievingly after some time.

Davis nodded. "That's why HQ didn't want you to fly this mission. They thought if you maybe knew where he was at the moment, you would have a hard time concentrating on the mission."

Newkirk continued to stare at Davis for some time. Then he gulped down the worry he felt for his brother-in-law and said, "Sir, I want to fly this mission."

"Corporal Newkirk – "

"No, Sir," Newkirk interrupted. "I 'ave to fly this mission. I must 'elp me brother-in-law to break out of this town and march towards Dunkirk. I owe this to me wife."

Davis sighed and placed right hand on Newkirk's shoulder. "That's exactly why it would be better if you skipped this mission. Your mind is not in the right place."

"Please, Sir. I promise ya 'at I will act as professional as I always do," Newkirk pleaded. "I promise to not let ya down if ya give me this chance."

Davis looked him in the eyes, seeing fierce determination radiating in them. Then his mind wandered to his own situation. If he got note that his brother-in-law was in trouble, he would not let the chance slip away to help him.

Eventually, Davis nodded. "Alright, Corporal."

The corners of Newkirk's mouth raised into a smile. "Thank ya, Sir."

"Now go and catch up," Davis said while he stepped away from the door. "We are scheduled to leave the base in five minutes."

"Yes, Sir," Newkirk exclaimed while running out of the barracks.

Davis watched after him and hoped that he made the right decision.

* * *

 _Five minutes away from Blankenberge, Belgium_

Newkirk sat in the cockpit of his Hawker Hurricane and tried his best to keep his place in the formation. The worry he felt for Samuel and the responsibility towards Lilian to help him escape to Dunkirk made him want to race to Blankenberge as fast as possible. But he had to keep a clear head. He had promised Davis to act professional and he would not break that promise; for the first time ever, someone outside his family and closest friends trusted him. And not just anyone. An officer for heaven's sakes! Besides, what was he supposed to do? He flew a fighter airplane and not a bomber. His task was to escort the bombers and protect them from enemy fighters. Of course, during close combat, if the opportunity came along, they were allowed to shoot at the ground in an attempt to hit enemy soldiers. But mainly he was the protection of the bombers. And he would do exactly that.

"Alright, guys. We are five minutes away from our target. Don't forget: your task is to protect the bombers. Attacking the enemy soldiers on the ground only comes when our bombers are not under attack," rang Davis voice through the radio.

A small laugh escaped Newkirk's lips. He knew very well that the last comment was directed at him.

"And even if you get the chance to attack the ground, think twice about it. Our guys are down there too, and they will try to break through the German lines during the raid," Davis said. "Good luck, chaps. Let's hope the Germans don't have an airfield close-by."

Newkirk spent the next minutes until he reached the target like he always did. He reached into the breast pocket of his flying suit and pulled out a picture of Lilian. He looked at her smile and gave the picture a kiss, silently promising her that he would return safely back to base. Then he put the picture back in the pocket and while he felt his heart beating in his throat, he prepared his mind for what was about to happen.

Two minutes away from Blankenberge, Davis' hopes were smashed. Before them was an armada of German fighter planes.

"No luck today," Davis said. "Alright, you know the drill. Protect the bombers and shoot enemy planes down."

Since Newkirk's position in the formation was at the outside, it was his job to charge at the Germans first. The people that were at the inside of the formation would stick by the bombers and protect them from nearby. He sped up his plane and rushed forward while he aimed at the first fighter he spotted. He waited for the other plane to be in his range of fire, and then he pressed on the firing button. Shots rang through the air and after some hits, smoke was coming from the enemy plane which eventually crashed down to earth. Newkirk continued to shoot down German planes while he himself only got some minor hits. By now, his squadron had reached Blankenberge and the bombers started dropping bombs.

Suddenly, a fighter plane came up behind him and began charging at him. Newkirk had to stop shooting at German planes and flew down to the right, trying to evade enemy fire. But the German plane did not stop so easily and began following him while also shooting at him. After multiple minor hits, Newkirk's plane shook tremendously; the impact jostled Newkirk forward and he hit his head at the control board. He groaned and slowly sat up again, his hand touching his forehead. Newkirk winced when his fingers touched something sticky. He looked at his fingers, which were covered in blood. Before Newkirk realized what was happening, there was another bang that sent his plane downward. He tried to raise his plane's nose, but another bang shook the plane and his head crushed against the control board again. Then everything went black around him.

* * *

 _London, England, the next day_

Lilian sat on the couch when she heard a knock on the door. She rose to her feet and walked through the hallway to the door. She opened the door and her heart stopped beating. Before her stood a telegram boy and his face showed that he was not bringing good news.

"Lilian Newkirk?" he asked.

"Yes," was the only reply Lilian managed.

He handed her the envelope and quickly left the hallway. Lilian closed the door and tore the envelope open in the hallway, not having the strength to move one inch.

 _The Air Ministry regrets to announce that your husband Cpl Peter Newkirk went missing in action. Letter to follow._


	17. Chapter 17

" _ **Never fear the shadows, they simply mean there's light shining somewhere nearby" – Winnie the Pooh**_

 _London, England_

Lilian did not how, but somehow, she ended up at Hannah's flat. Now she sat in Hannah's living room, a cup of tea in her hand and a comforting arm around her shoulder.

"What did the telegram say?" Hannah asked.

"That Peter went missing in action," Lilian answered with a shaky voice. "And that a letter would follow." She put the cup of tea on the table and her head in her hands as she started to cry again.

Hannah gently rubbed over her best friend's back and softly said, "Don't cry, Lilian. Everything will turn out fine."

"You…you don't…know that," Lilian managed to say in between sobs. She raised her hand and looked at Hannah, her cheeks covered in tears. "Peter could be dead."

"You don't know that."

"Or worse, he might be lying around in the middle of nowhere, bleeding to death." Lilian started to cry again and she placed her head on Hannah's shoulder.

Hannah sighed. Though she tried to comfort Lilian, she knew the chance that all those assumptions were true was high. Everyday, she was fearing to be put in the exact same position her friend was now in, receiving a telegram informing her of Colin being missing or dead. But Hannah also knew that the worst thing Lilian could now do was working herself up over scenarios that were frightening, but not necessarily true.

So she softly rubbed with her hand over Lilian's upper arm and tried to soothe her. "Stop that thinking, Lilian. It won't help you, and it definitely won't help Peter. You don't know what has happened to him. I know that is frightening, but as long as you don't have the confirmation of what has happened to Peter, all those things you are thinking about are mere possibilities. Yes, Peter could be dead. But he could also be running around somewhere in Europe, trying to find a way back to England. And as long as this wide range of possibilities exists, you should stop working yourself up over the worst-case scenario. Try to stay calm and wait for the letter to arrive. Then we'll see what to do next."

"Oh, Hannah, I'm so scared," Lilian said.

"I know. But Peter would want you to stay calm and wait for more information," Hannah advised.

Lilian slowly removed her head from her friend's shoulder and gazed at her. Suddenly, her eyes grew bigger as she realized something.

"What?" Hannah asked.

"I have to tell Peter's parents about the telegram." Lilian wiped with her hands across her cheeks and said, "How am I going to explain to them that their son went missing in action? Dorothy will freak out."

Hannah put a comforting hand on Lilian's knee. "Stay calm, Lilian. You just go to there and tell them that Peter went missing and that a letter with more details will follow. Nothing more, nothing less."

Lilian turned to Hannah and looked at her. Then she wrapped her arms around her shoulders in a tight embrace. "Thank you for being there for me. I don't know what I would do without you."

Hannah returned the hug, her arms wrapped equally tight around Lilian's body. "No need to thank me. That's what friends are for."

After some minutes, the two friends pulled away from each other. Lilian made another attempt at drying her face with her hands when she asked, "When was the last time you received a letter from Colin?"

Hannah sighed and looked down at her hands. "A month ago. You?"

"Samuel's last letter arrived around the same time." Lilian smiled softly at Hannah. "But like you said, we should not worry about something we can't change. Especially if we don't know exactly what's going on."

Hannah returned her friend's smile. "That's right. So now, do you want another cup of tea?"

"That would be nice, thank you."

The two went on to talk about all kinds of different things, not forgetting what was troubling them, but putting it away for some peaceful moments together as if the world was not currently going down in mainland Europe.

* * *

 _Ten kilometres outside Blankenberge, Belgium_

Together with Colin and Technician Burton, Samuel reached a barn that was surrounded by trees. Before the attack by the RAF, he had ordered his unit to leave the town in small groups and fight their way to this barn, which would be the meeting point for them.

Samuel slowly opened the door a bit and called into the barn, "Thunder!"

"Storm!" came the answer from the inside of the barn.

Samuel sighed in relief and smiled at Colin while he opened the door fully. The three men stepped into the barn and were greeted with the sight of their comrades sitting on hay bales as they tried to catch their breath from running through the German lines.

Samuel walked towards the group, a broad smile on his face. "Glad to see you all."

Sergeant Watts stepped towards him and said, "We are glad to see you too, Sir."

Samuel let his gaze wander around the barn. "How many are missing?"

"Only three, Sir," Sergeant Watts answered. "Sergeant Fisher, Corporal Fletcher, and Corporal Morgan."

"Alright, let's wait for them," Samuel announced. He walked towards his men and asked everyone personally if they were hurt. When he was sure that no one was seriously injured, he sat down next to Colin on a hay bale.

"I can't believe your plan worked," Colin raved. "That we really managed to get out of Blankenberge is a miracle!"

"I'm amazed myself," Samuel admitted. "Now only Sergeant Fisher and the other two need to arrive and I'm happy."

"I'm sure they will," Colin said.

Half an hour went by before the door to the barn was carefully opened again. Everyone's gaze shot at the door as they awaited the code word.

To the relief to everyone, the word, "Thunder!" was soon called into the barn.

"Storm!" Samuel called out while standing up from the hay bale.

Just like when he had entered the barn, after receiving the confirmation code, the door was fully opened and in walked the missing three men.

Sergeant Fisher looked at his comrades and laughed. "Seems like we are the last ones to join the party."

"Yeah, I call that bad manners," Samuel joked as he walked towards Sergeant Fisher. They shook hands and clapped each other on the back. Then Samuel turned around to face his men and announced, "Now that everyone is here, let's get going. We have a long march ahead of us until we reach Dunkirk."

* * *

Newkirk moaned when he regained consciousness. He was lying down on the ground, but strangely enough, the ground was shaking. When he tried to raise his head, a painful groan left his lips and a wave of dizziness overcame him.

"Zee who woke up," a strange voice said in a thick accent.

Someone kicked Newkirk in the stomach, and when he groaned, he heard the laughter of two men. Eventually, he managed to raise himself up on his elbow and open his eyes. And what he saw made his heart sink. Before him were two men sitting on the side benches of a truck that was used to deploy troops. And the uniforms the men wore told Newkirk that they were not his friends; they were the enemy.

 _Bloody 'ell! I was captured!_


	18. Chapter 18

" _ **There is nothing on this earth more to be prized than true friendship" – Thomas Aquinas**_

"Where are ya bringin' me to?" Newkirk asked warily.

"That's none of your business, _Engländer_ ," one of the men answered. Then he looked at his comrade and the two began to laugh.

The other man turned his head and stared at Newkirk, his crystal blue eyes holding a sparkle that had only one description: evil. Together with the ashen blond hair, he reminded Newkirk of the Aryan type that German-born English airmen had told him about.

"Don't be so harsh on him, Rolf," the Aryan said. "I think he deserves to know that he won't like the place we're bringing him to."

Both Germans started to laugh again while Newkirk's blood ran cold. He was trying his hardest to keep a straight face and act strong in front of his captors; inwardly, he was scared to death. But not only for himself, but also for Lilian. He knew he had to be strong for her; the moment she would receive the telegram about his absence, she was probably freaking out. And whatever his captors had planned for him, he had to endure it. For Lilian. He had to make it through so that she would not receive another telegram informing her about his death, but about him being a prisoner of war. He had to stay calm and strong. Therefore, he hoisted himself up from his side and elbow and sat down on the truck bed's ground, his back leaning against the partition wall of driver's cab and loading area.

" 'ow do ya want to know what I like and what I don't like?" he teased the Aryan guy.

The Aryan guy did not turn to look at him. "Seems like someone is acting tough, Rolf."

" _Ja_. But I'm sure this will change soon," the other German answered.

He flashed his comrade a dirty smile, who raised the corners of his mouth into a smile too. Then the Aryan stood up and in one quick motion, he kicked Newkirk with his steel-capped boots into the side. Newkirk fell to the ground as a searing wave of pain washed through his body, but he bid on his bottom lip to prevent him from crying out; he would not give his captors this satisfaction. However, he could not prevent a small groan. The German kicked him again and again into his ribcage and stomach until Newkirk had trouble breathing. There was a short pause, and just as Newkirk thought the German had stopped, his captor kicked him again. But this time, he kicked him with all his might against the head. Newkirk felt himself drifting into unconsciousness, his surroundings fading away from him. He felt another kick against the head before he was completely engulfed by the darkness.

* * *

 _Ostend, Belgium_

The march towards Dunkirk proved to be much more difficult than expected. The problem was not the distance or the exhaustion of the men, but the Germans that could possible be lurking behind every house or hiding in high grass and fields. And Belgium's countryside had a lot of fields to hide. This meant that Samuel and his men had to be extra careful when moving through the town, villages, and open fields.

They were just crouching in high grass as they awaited a German patrol to move past them. Colin, who was kneeling next to him, whispered, "How much more to go?"

Samuel eyes the German patrol that was marching about two hundred fifty metres away from them while answering, "Thirty-three kilometres till the French-Belgian border, and forty-seven kilometres till Dunkirk."

"It will take an eternity until we reach there," Colin whispered. "With all the Germans roaming in the villages."

Sergeant Fisher, who was crouching a few metres away from Samuel, crawled to him through the high grass, always making sure not to make a sound. When he reached him, he asked, "What did HQ say about the start of the evacuation? When do we have to be there?"

Samuel shrugged. "They didn't mention a specific day or time. They only said that the evacuation was scheduled to start in a few days." He looked over his shoulder and saw that the German patrol had finally passed them, which made everyone sigh in relief. He turned back to Colin and Sergeant Fisher and said, "Now let's get moving. Who knows when the next patrol comes?"

Everyone stood up, but they remained hidden in the high grass. No need for further risk. After so many weeks encircled and pressured by the Germans, Samuel's dearest wish was to get his unit safely on a boat in the harbour of Dunkirk and then back to England. If he would lose a man now, it would break his heart even more than all the other deaths because of how close they were to safety.

While they were marching on, Samuel said to Sergeant Fisher, "I wouldn't worry about reaching Dunkirk in time. I'm certain we are not the only once who have a hard time moving through the streets and fields of France and the Low Countries with the heavy German presence. We should focus on getting safely to Dunkirk, not fast."

"But that is what worries me," Sergeant Fisher admitted. "The longer we need, the higher the risk that we ran into a German unit. We are so low on ammunition that even a small group of ten men would be too much for us."

"Like I said, worrying doesn't help us. If we stay focused, we will manage it. Just have faith," Samuel said. "If we don't have faith, everything is lost."

* * *

 _Brussels, Belgium_

Newkirk slowly returned to the world of the living. Though his mind was still foggy and even breathing hurt, he was able to notice that the truck had stopped moving.

He heard a rustle and then a familiar voice barked, " _Aufstehen, Engländer!"_

Even if Newkirk had understood what the German had barked at him, which he did not because he did not understand German, he would have been in no constitution to follow the – probable – order. Breathing hurt like hell and the slightest movement sent daggers through his body. But of course, that was of no importance to his captors. Soon he felt two hands grabbing his arms and then he was thrown out of the truck bed.

As he landed with a thump and a supressed groan, he heard the Aryan saying, "You should quickly learn the orders, or else there will be unpleasant consequences."

Newkirk heard him jumping down from the truck bed. As he tried to raise himself up on his hands, two hands grabbed him again and painfully pulled him up on his feet. The earlier beating session had probably broken some of his ribs, which Newkirk now to his utter dismay felt. The quick movement of being pulled up intensified the stinging pain coming from his ribs and made breathing even more unbearable than it already was.

"But since you're new here, I'll be nice and ignore your uncooperative behaviour, _ja_?" the German continued.

While trying his best to prevent himself from vomiting as a wave of nausea hit him, Newkirk noticed how he was moved – or rather dragged – into a building. In the building, he was pushed into a chair while his captor left him. Newkirk, who was slouching in the chair while having his eyes closed to concentrate on settling his stomach, heard how a door opened and closed in his near vicinity. A few moments later, he did not know how much later exactly, the door opened and closed again.

He heard footsteps coming closer to him and then an unfamiliar voice saying in a proud yet at the same time mocking tone, "So that's the newest Allied airman overpowered by the German air superiority, _heh_?" Then he asked, probably directed at one of Newkirk's captors, "Was he hurt when his plane crashed or what happened to him?"

"He was unconscious when we found him," the Aryan guy answered. "But his physical state mainly results from the fact that we were teaching him a lesson in submission."

The strange man laughed. "Ah, the good old German discipline. What's your name, rank, and service number?" he asked, now obviously speaking to Newkirk.

Not wanting to receive another "lesson" in submission, Newkirk gulped down the nausea he felt and answered, "Newkirk, Peter, Corporal, Royal Air Force, 217795."

"Alright, Corporal, welcome to the beautiful city of Brussels. However, don't get too excited. You are leaving for Germany in about ten minutes." The unfamiliar man made a small pause before he said to the Aryan, "Bring him in the truck that's going to the Dulag-Luft. It's parked behind the office."

" _Jawohl, Oberst_!" the Aryan called out.

Newkirk heard how he clicked his heels, and then he was pulled up again. As he was dragged out of the office, Newkirk was slipping back into the darkness and before he had even reached the truck, he was unconscious once more.

* * *

 _London, England, the next day_

The Air Ministry did keep its word. One day after the telegram, Lilian found a letter on her doormat. The moment her eyes landed on the return address, Lilian's heart stopped beating and she began to tremble. However, she did not open the letter. When Lilian regained enough strength to move her legs, she went into her bedroom and put on a cardigan. Then she grabbed her bag and put the letter in it before she left her flat. Lilian knew that no matter what the letter would say, she was not strong enough to read it alone. Therefore, she headed to the one person she was certain would support her through any message she was about to receive: Hannah.

About fifteen minutes later, she knocked on Hannah's door. Since today was a Sunday, Lilian had no doubt about Hannah being home. Her best friend always said that Sunday was her resting day and that if not a fire broke out in her flat, she would not leave it. Not a minute after Lilian had knocked, the door was opened by a smiling Hannah.

"Hey, Lilian!" she greeted happily. "What brings you here?"

Lilian could already feel the tears welling up. Fighting against them, she gulped and said in a shaky voice, "The letter arrived."

Hannah knew immediately what her friend was talking about. Her smile vanished from her face as she stepped aside, inviting Lilian in. Lilian followed the wordless invitation and went into the living room.

The two friends sat down on the sofa, and Hannah instantly placed a hand on Lilian's shoulder. "What does the letter say?"

"I have not yet opened it," Lilian admitted. "I couldn't do it alone."

"Well, now you are not alone anymore. Go ahead and open it."

Lilian reached into her bag and pulled the letter out. However, she did not open the envelope. "What if the letter tells me that Peter is dead?"

Hannah began to gently rub Lilian's bag. "Don't go that road again. Yes, the letter could tell you that. But the letter could also inform you that Peter has managed to find a British infantry unit and is alive." She smiled warmly at her friend. "As long as you don't open the letter, you won't have certainty."

As Lilian looked at her friend, a small smile found its way on her face. "Thank you for your support, Hannah."

"That goes without saying," Hannah said. "But now open the letter."

Lilian's gaze fell down on the white envelope in her hands. She took a deep breath before tearing it open and pulling out the letter. She took another breath before unfolding it and began to read aloud,

"Dear Mrs. Newkirk,

This letter comes as a continuation of the telegram you have received on May 24th, 1941. On 23rd May, 1941, on a flight near the Belgian coast, your husband, Cpl Peter Newkirk, went missing in action. At the moment, we do not have any more information about your husband. But in the name of the Prime Minister, we can assure you that the Air Ministry is in constant contact with the Red Cross to figure out what has happened to your husband. As soon as we have more information on his whereabouts, you will receive another letter.

Please, stay calm and strong.

Sincerely yours,

Harold Macmillan

Secretary of State for Air"

Lilian raised her gaze and directed it at Hannah. "Peter could still be dead."

"Or he could still be alive," countered Hannah. "Stop being so pessimistic." Lilian sighed and lowered her gaze again on the letter in her hands. Hannah could see how a small tear was making its way down her friend's cheek, what made her wrap her arm around Lilian's shoulder. "I know it's an awful situation; not knowing whether your husband is still alive. But trust me, constantly thinking he is dead won't help anyone. Not you, and especially not Peter."

Lilian continued looking at the letter before she closed her eyes and slightly nodded. "You are right, Hannah. Thank you for comforting me."

Hannah smiled. "Again, that goes without saying. But how about I make us some tea and we distract you a bit with working on the upcoming examinations for the children?"

A small laugh escaped Lilian's lips as she raised her glance to look at her friend. "Really? Your way of distracting me is making me work?"

"Hey, what's better than getting your mind off of worrying than creating English and Maths examinations?" Hannah joked.

This made Lilian laugh, this time with her full heart. The rest of the afternoon, the two friends spent with work, and for the first time in more than twenty-four hours, Lilian was not thinking about the possible death of her husband.


	19. Chapter 19

_Leffrinckoucke, France, 5,4 kilometres away from Dunkirk, the next day_

After a slow and tiresome march that had to be halted repeatedly because of German patrols, Samuel and his unit were finally in reach of Dunkirk. Just five more kilometres and they could finally be evacuated.

One of the youngest soldiers of the unit, Private Cooper, was walking behind Samuel when he jubilantly exclaimed, "We made it!"

"Not yet, Private," Samuel said without turning around. "As long as we have not reached England's coast, we are not safe."

As if to prove Samuel's statement, machine-gun bullets started to fly around. Everyone fell to the ground and crawled to the nearest building or high grass for safety. Everyone except Samuel. When Colin spotted his best friend lying down without moving a muscle to get up to safety, he rushed over to him and dragged him into the entry area of a small shop.

Colin pushed Samuel against the wall, making him sit up. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

Samuel removed his hand from his stomach, revealing a bright red spot around a bullet hole. "I guess so," he said, but before he was able to continue, a coughing fit took hold of his lungs which made the pain from the bullet wound rupture through his whole body.

As more and more bullets flew through the air, now a mixture of German and British ammunition, Colin placed a comforting hand on Samuel's shoulder. "Deep breaths, Samuel. You have to calm down." When the coughing died down, he opened his friend's shirt. "Blooming hell," Colin hissed as he spotted two entry wounds; one in the stomach and the other close to the lungs.

"Let me guess," Samuel wheezed. "It doesn't look good."

Colin looked up from his friend's wounds. "You're right about that. Why do you have to get yourself shot so close to Dunkirk?"

"Because getting shot is half the fun of fighting a war?" Samuel joked.

"Very funny." Colin crouched to the door of the shop and looked outside, seeing Sergeant Barnes, the unit's medic, kneeling in the entry of the building across the street. "Barnes!" Colin called out. He waited for the man in question to look at him before he continued, "Get yourself over here! Samuel's hurt."

Sergeant Barnes looked around and when the bullets stopped flying around for a second, he rushed across the street. Sergeant Fisher, who had kneeled next to the medic, followed him.

"Where is he hurt?" Sergeant Barnes asked as soon as he reached his unit's commander.

"Stomach and chest," Colin answered.

While Sergeant Barnes treated Samuel, Sergeant Fisher turned to Colin and whispered, "The fire comes from the south-western side of the village. The Krauts probably try to block our way to Dunkirk. I have also located some snipers on the hills on the south-eastern side."

A painful gasp turned their attention back to their wounded commander.

"I'm sorry, Sir," Sergeant Barnes said.

"It's…it's alright," Samuel breathed.

When Sergeant Barnes finished wrapping a bandage around Samuel's chest, he looked up to Colin and Sergeant Fisher. "Sergeant Wheeler needs to get to Dunkirk immediately. He must get on one of the ships; there he will get the necessary treatment."

"But how do we get him there?" Colin asked no one in particular. "The Germans have cut off our only way to Dunkirk."

"Not exactly," Sergeant Fisher announced. When he saw the questioning look on Colin's face, he explained, "There's a field road leading to Dunkirk. Instead of following the coastline, the road leads into the country and then makes a turn to the right back to the coast. If you use the backdoor of this shop, you should be able to follow the road without being spotted by the Germans. Especially if we direct their attention at us."

"Who is us?" Colin questioned with a raised brow.

"The rest of the unit," Sergeant Fisher stated. "Everyone except you and Sergeant Barnes. The two of you will get Sergeant Wheeler to Dunkirk."

Colin shot a glance at his friend. He was breathing loudly and one could see the pain that was circulating in his body. "Alright."

Sergeant Barnes rose to his feet. "Not so fast, Corporal Price. We need another man to carry Sergeant Wheeler to Dunkirk. Two to carry him and one to look out for the Germans."

Colin turned to Sergeant Fisher. "Are you coming with us?"

Sergeant Fisher shook his head. "Someone has to stay back and give orders." He walked to the door and looked out, spotting Private Cooper at the corner of the shop's building. "Cooper! This way!"

Private Cooper scrambled along the building's wall and entered the shop. "Yes, Sir?"

"You will help Sergeant Barnes and Corporal Price to get Sergeant Wheeler to Dunkirk," Sergeant Fisher ordered.

Private Cooper looked past Sergeant Fisher, and when he spotted his commander, his eyes grew big. "What happened to Sergeant Wheeler?"

"He was injured in the attack," Sergeant Barnes explained. He waved the young man over and said, "Grab his left arm and help me pull him up. We two will need to drag him."

Private Cooper swung his gun on his back and rushed over to the two men. Together with Sergeant Barnes, he hoisted his commander up, which elicited a painful groan from the injured man.

"I'm sorry, Sir, but it's going to be a painful march to Dunkirk. But this is the only way to get you the help that you need," Sergeant Barnes explained.

Samuel gritted his teeth and hissed, "I understand. Just ignore my groans."

Sergeant Barnes nodded and looked at Colin. "Lead the way, Corporal."

Colin shot a quick glance at Sergeant Fisher, who said, "Good luck. See you in England."

"See you in England," Colin replied. Then he looked at Sergeant Barnes and said, "Let's go."

* * *

 _Somewhere in western Germany_

When Newkirk's mind slowly returned to consciousness, he felt like he had a really bad hangover. It reminded him of the morning after his twentieth birthday; he did not have any memories about the actual day. The only thing he can still remember is that he woke up the next morning with the worst headache he had ever experienced. The whole day, he had stayed in his bed because the slightest move made his stomach turn. However, there was one slight difference to his current situation. He could still remember what has happened the day before. And the day before that. He had been shot down while he tried to help clear the way for Samuel.

Samuel! Was the mission successful? Had he managed to break through the German lines and flee towards Dunkirk? A shiver went through Newkirk's body. Was Samuel still alive? Or had Lilian already received his death telegram?

Lilian. Newkirk's heart ached as his thoughts drifted to his wonderful wife. His kind, good-hearted, beautiful wife who was in this moment probably sick of worry for him. Surely she had received a telegram by now, informing her of his disappearance. What if she had also received a telegram which was telling her about her brother's death? What if he had failed his mission? Maybe his capture was the punishment for not saving his brother-in-law?

All those thoughts were drifting through Newkirk's mind as he tried to sit up. This turned out to be a painful task considering his bruised if not broken ribs. When Newkirk finally managed to push himself up, he had to stop halfway through because of the nausea that made his stomach turn.

While he was still looking down to the ground to settle his stomach, he heard a voice laughing, "See who has woken up!"

Newkirk recognized that voice instantly. It belonged to the Aryan guy responsible for the pain that was controlling his body. The anger he felt as a result of that realization made the pain vanish into the background and Newkirk took a deep breath before he sat up completely. His mind had not betrayed him; with him was the Aryan soldier. But he was not the only person in the truck bed. Across from him sat another German man, but not the same one who was in the truck earlier; he was almost a mirror image from the Aryan. And then there were five other soldiers, all dressed in RAF blue and staring at him. A guy on Newkirk's right side who had dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes stretched his hand out, a warm smile spreading on his face. Newkirk gratefully accepted the hand, and the other man, obviously aware of the pain he felt, carefully pulled him up on the sitting bench.

When Newkirk was seated in a position that bothered him with the least amount of pain, the other man whispered, "I'm Pelletier, RCAF." [1]

"Newkirk, RAF," he responded.

"Good to see you awake. I thought you were already dead."

"It takes more to kill me than some lousy Krauts beatin' the crap out of me," Newkirk whispered while shooting the Aryan a deadly glare. "Do ya know where they take us?"

"To a Dulag-Luft," Pelletier answered. "It's a kind of assembly camp for captured air force personnel. The Germans use it for interrogations while they await orders to which POW camp they are supposed to send us."

Newkirk raised an eyebrow. " 'ow do ya know all this?"

"I eavesdropped on some Kraut soldiers. My grandparents are from Germany, and they made sure that I know the language."

" _Ruhe_!" barked the Aryan guy when he noticed the two talking.

Pelletier immediately stopped talking, and Newkirk followed him suit. Though he had no idea what the German had ordered, he was certain it was best to simply do what his Canadian comrade was doing.

After a few minutes in which the Aryan had started a conversation with his comrade, Pelletier whispered to Newkirk, " ' _Ruhe_ ' means 'silence'."

Newkirk nodded and leaned with his head back against the truck's wall, quietly sighing while he closed his eyes to fight the arising nausea.

"I think you should relax the rest of the drive. Once we have arrived, I doubt they will give you much chance to rest," Pelletier suggested.

"Ya're probably right," Newkirk whispered, his eyes still closed.

"Go ahead and try to sleep. I'll wake you when we have arrived," Pelletier offered, his voice warm and full of comfort.

Newkirk turned his head and opened his eyes. "Thank ya," he said before he closed his eyes again and once more slipped into the comforting darkness of sleep.

* * *

 _Dunkirk, France_

After what seemed like an eternity, the group finally reached the saving blue of the English Channel. Colin looked down at Samuel, who had placed his head against his friend's shoulder. The painful way to their rescue had taken a toll on the injured man, and for the past three kilometres, Samuel was in and out of consciousness. And every time he slipped out of reality, Colin was worried that he might not return. But now, they had reached safety.

"Samuel, we've reached Dunkirk," Colin softly said. "Just hold on a bit longer; you will be helped in no time."

Samuel simply groaned; his body was not strong enough to give his friend a verbal answer.

Colin looked up and directed a worried glance at Sergeant Barnes. "We have to get him on a ship. Fast."

"I know. But we're almost there. The esplanade is at the end of the street; we'll just have to get down to the beach and over the pier," Sergeant Barnes explained.

The two men dragged their friend through the street with Private Cooper acting as a scout a few metres in front of them. They had managed to avoid any German patrol on their way, but no one wanted to risk running into Germans so close to the harbour. As they reached the end of the street, Colin and Sergeant Barnes stopped while Private Cooper slowly approached the junction. First, he looked around the corner of the building he leant against to check if the coast was clear. When he saw no irregularities, he checked the other side. After he made sure that there were no Germans either, Private Cooper waved for the other two men to come closer. While he waited for them to catch up to him, he looked at the coast; and what he saw amazed him. Before him was a huge crowd of soldiers standing and sitting on the yellowish sand of the beach, waiting to be allowed to enter one of the many ships waiting at the pier or in the middle of the sea.

Private Cooper turned to his left when he heard Sergeant Barnes whistled. "HQ was not kidding when they said our whole army would be evacuated."

Private Cooper simply stared at him, not knowing what to answer.

"Well, let's get down to the beach," Sergeant Barnes declared, and the group started moving again.

Colin and Sergeant Barnes dragged Samuel down to the beach as fast as possible; however, the exhaustion of the last weeks was slowly catching up to them. And the fact that Samuel was dead-weight in their arms was not helping.

"Cooper, rush to the ship on the pier and tell them that we bring a seriously injured soldier," Colin ordered when they stepped on the sand, immediately sinking down.

Private Cooper nodded and ran towards the sea; meanwhile, Colin and Sergeant Barnes tried their best to drag Samuel over the sand. A small groan left his lips, which showed Colin that his friend was back with them.

"Please, Samuel, we are almost there. Just a few minutes more," Colin pleaded, his desperation evident.

As Colin and Sergeant Barnes moved through the crowd of soldiers, they felt all eyes upon them. To Colin's utter relief, the other soldiers made room for them to move to the pier without saying a word. Even though it should be self-evidently to help an injured comrade, Colin new from years in the service that soldiers in desperate situations turned into selfish bastards.

Before Colin had even realized it, they were standing in front of an Army official with a clipboard in his hand. Next to him stood a nervous Private Cooper.

"Names and unit?" the official asked.

"Sergeant Barnes and Corporal Price," Sergeant Barnes answered. He tilted his head at Samuel and continued, "And this is Sergeant Wheeler. A Company, 2nd Battalion of the Royal Fusiliers. Sergeant Wheeler was shot on our way to Dunkirk; he needs immediate medical attention."

"Yes, Private Cooper mentioned that to me," the official answered. He looked at his clipboard. "Normally, this ship is full and would leave now, but since this is an emergency, you can bring him on board."

"Can we stay with him?" Colin asked.

The official eyed him. Then he looked at his clipboard again and bit his bottom lip. Eventually he sighed and wrote something down on the clipboard. He tore the paper from it and handed it to Private Cooper. "If they question why you have boarded this ship even though it is full, just show them this paper. It's your ticket to Dover."

"Thank you," Colin said.

"Don't mention it," the official said. "Now get your friend to the infirmary."

Colin nodded and together with Sergeant Barnes, he used his last strength to drag his friend over the plank onto the ship. Private Cooper followed them closely. When they had entered the ship, the Army official removed the plank and indicated to the captain to start off. During the talk on the pier, two crew members of the ship had gotten a stretcher and now helped Colin and Sergeant Barnes in placing Samuel on the stretcher. As the two crew members grabbed the stretcher and began moving in the direction of the infirmary, Colin took a last glance at mainland Europe, sending a silent prayer to God in which he asked him to help Samuel survive this.

They had made it through too much together. He was not prepared to lose his best friend. Not now. Not ever.

 **[1] RCAF – abbreviation for Royal Canadian Air Force**


	20. Chapter 20

" _ **There are perhaps many causes worth dying for, but to me, certainly, there are none worth killing for." – Albert Dietrich**_

 _Dulag-Luft, Oberursel, near Frankfurt am Main, Germany_

A gentle nudge against his shoulder and a whispered, "Wake up," took Newkirk out of his slumber.

He slowly opened his and at first, Newkirk had no idea where he was. But when he turned his head and looked into the face of the uniformed man next to him who gave him a warm smile, the memories of the last hours returned to him.

"We've arrived," Pelletier informed him.

"Thank ya," Newkirk answered.

"You're welcome." Pelletier eyed him and whispered, "I take it from earlier that you don't understand German?"

Newkirk shook his head. "Not a word."

Suddenly, the truck stopped. Pelletier shot a quick glance at the two German soldiers, who stood up from the sitting bench. Then he looked back at Newkirk and whispered, "Stick with me and do what I do. Otherwise you might get more injured."

Newkirk nodded, but before he could say something, the Aryan guy barked, "Out!"

The Allied soldiers followed the order and jumped out of the truck. Because of his bruised ribs, Newkirk struggled a bit to get out, but thankfully, Pelletier helped him. As they stood in line, Newkirk observed his surroundings. There were three big buildings in a row plus a smaller one opposite of the three buildings.

The Aryan soldier moved forward to the smaller building an barked, " _Vorwärts_!"

Newkirk, who was the first in line, did not know what to do. Pelletier, standing behind him, sensed that and whispered, "It means forward. I think he wants us to go into the building."

Newkirk nodded and walked towards the building. Pelletier and the rest of the Allied airmen followed him, and in a row, they went into the smaller building. Inside they found themselves in the secretary's outer office. Their captor went over to the secretary and talked with her before he knocked on the door to the other officer. He opened the door and ushered the prisoners into the next room. Newkirk and the others were told to stop in front of the desk behind which a middle-aged man sat. Behind the man, a picture of Adolf Hitler hang on the wall; to Newkirk, it seemed like Germany's leader was directing all his hatred right at him.

"Major, these are the new prisoners coming from the Belgian coast," the Aryan said after saluting the higher-ranking officer.

"Ah, yes, thank you, Fischer," the officer said.

Fischer, what turned out to be the name of the Aryan soldier, nodded and stepped back, positioning himself in the back of the room.

The officer then looked at the group of Allied airmen and said, "Welcome to the _Durchgangslager-Luft_ , your home for the next days or weeks. My name is Major Theodor Rumpel, and I'm the camp commandant. As I can see, you are all Commonwealth soldiers. What are your names, ranks, and service numbers?"

One by one, the captured airmen followed the request.

"Tremblay, Joseph, Flight Sergeant, Royal Canadian Air Force, J629465114."

"Fortin, Douglas John, Sergeant, Royal Canadian Air Force, C437620992."

"Dixon, Stanley Walter, Sergeant, Royal Air Force, 749205."

"Gauthier, Harry, Leading Aircraftman, Royal Canadian Air Force, U511893518."

"Pelletier, Frederick, Corporal, Royal Canadian Air Force, C354026425."

"Newkirk, Peter, Corporal, Royal Air Force, 217795."

When Major Rumpel finished writing down the information, he looked up from the paper on his desk. "Does anyone else need medical attention besides Corporal Newkirk?"

Newkirk's eyes almost popped out of his head. He had expected everything, but not that the officer behind the table would care about his injuries; injuries he had received through the feet of a German.

The others seemed equally surprised, but eventually they shook their heads.

"Good to hear." Major Rumpel rose to his feet and said to the German soldier behind Newkirk, "Fischer, bring the five uninjured men to the cells. Is Vogt waiting outside?"

"Yes, he is, Major," Fischer answered.

"Alright. Now bring them away."

Fischer went to the door and opened it, motioning for the Allied soldiers to go out. Pelletier shot a quick glance at Newkirk, again smiling warmly at him, before he followed his comrades.

When they had left the room, the German officer said, "You will go with _Gefreiter_ Vogt; he will bring you to the infirmary."

Major Rumpel went to the door and opened it. He said something to the other soldier that had brought Newkirk and the others to this camp which Newkirk did not understand since he spoke to him in German. The other soldier saluted and waved Newkirk to him. Newkirk complied and followed him, still unsure about the apparent friendliness of the German officer. The German, whose name was Vogt according to Major Rumpel, led him to the same truck that had brought him here and ordered him to climb into the back. Just like when he tried to leave the truck, Newkirk had trouble entering the vehicle because of his bruised ribs. Once more, to his utter surprise, his German captor appeared to be friendly and helped him in. Vogt followed Newkirk and when they both were seated, he hit against the truck's wall, indicating for the driver that they were ready to go. Shortly after, the engine started and the truck began to move, driving out of the camp.

* * *

 _On a ship in the English Channel_

Samuel was lying in the infirmary, a white curtain drawn around his bed. With him was Colin, a doctor, and a medic. Sergeant Barnes and Private Cooper were waiting outside the infirmary, no one saying a word to the other; both were lost in their own thoughts. Inside the curtain, there was not such silence.

While the medical personnel worked on getting the bleeding under control, Colin stood by Samuel's head and tried to comfort his friend that was in pain. "Everything is going to be alright, Samuel. The doctors will stop the bleeding and in no time, we will be in England. Then you can see Lilian again."

Samuel pressed his eyes shut and held his breath when an intense stinging pain rushed through his body. "Colin, if I…if I don't…make it –"

"Don't talk bollocks, man," Colin interrupted. "You will make it. We've managed to come this far, buddy; don't give up so close to the finish line."

"I'm not…giving up…idiot," Samuel breathed, the last comment putting a smile on Colin's face. "But in case…I die…there is a letter…in my bag…for Lilian…please make sure…she gets…it."

Colin bit his bottom lip and lowered his gaze, struggling with agreeing to his best friend's wish. For Colin, agreeing to making sure that Lilian would get the letter would mean he admitted that Samuel's death was a valid possible outcome.

"Please," Samuel pleaded. "Also make sure…that she…that she is alright."

Colin raised his glance again and looked at his friend, seeing the painful look on his face. But this time, he was not sure if the pain came from his wounds or from the thought of leaving Lilian alone.

Eventually, Colin sighed and slowly nodded his head. "Alright, Samuel. You have my word. But that's not a free ride for you to stop fighting."

"I won't, Colin…I promise."

* * *

 _Oberursel, Germany_

It was a short drive to the infirmary. When the truck stopped, Vogt helped Newkirk out of the truck and led him into the building. There the German talked to one of the medical personnel who then showed Newkirk a bed where he should sit on. Vogt positioned himself next to Newkirk and while he waited for a doctor to come, he took a look around. There were a number of men lying in the infirmary, most of them covered in thick bandages and from what Newkirk could see, they looked miserable.

He looked at Vogt and asked, "What 'appened to all these men?"

"They were burnt when their plane crashed," Vogt answered. He turned and gazed at Newkirk. "You are very lucky that you survived the crash without any major injuries."

"Ya mean without **any** injuries," Newkirk scoffed. Vogt shot him a questioning glance and Newkirk explained, "Except for the cut on my forehead, all my injuries are a result from your comrade."

"But when I climbed into the truck in Brussels, you already had your injuries. How should Fischer have been responsible for them?" Vogt questioned. The tone of his voice and his disbelieving facial expression told Newkirk that the German was genuinely shocked.

"Yer dear comrade was the one who brought me to Brussels. Durin' the drive, 'e 'ad decided to use me as a punchbag."

Vogt lowered his glance to the ground and stayed silent for a moment. Then he whispered, without raising his gaze, "I'm sorry to hear that. He had no right to do that to you."

The sincere tone in his voice caught Newkirk by surprise. In training, the officers always told them that Germans were the enemy, that all of them were cruel and inhuman, and that they should have no mercy with the enemy when in combat. And after what had happened in the truck, Newkirk thought his teachers' points had been proven right; but now, he was not so sure anymore.

"Don't work yerself up over spilled milk," Newkirk said. "Ya can't change what 'appened. And trust me, it takes more than some ruddy punches to brin' me to me knees."

Vogt nodded but did not answer since a doctor approached them. The doctor examined Newkirk for any kind of head injuries, and when he found none, he treated the cuts and bruises. He quickly stitched up the two cuts on Newkirk's forehead and cheekbone, disinfected his split lip, and wrapped a bandage around his ribs; luckily, they were only bruised and not broken.

After the treatment, Vogt brought Newkirk back to the camp. He led him to the far-right building, which contained many cells on both the right and left side of the hallway. Vogt opened a door on the left side, pretty much in the middle of the hallway. Then he motioned for Newkirk to step in.

"My shift for this building starts in four hours. Until then, Fischer is here," Vogt said.

Newkirk listened to him while he looked around the small cell. It contained a cot on the left side and a bucket in the right corner. There was a small window and no light bulb.

 _Lovely_ , Newkirk thought. _So when it gets dark, it gets really dark. Probably the Krauts way of tryin' to scare the prisoners. Well, this will not work with me._

"I will check on you when my shift starts. Tell me if he has done anything that is in violation of the Geneva Convention."

Newkirk turned around. "I would love to do 'at, chap. But for 'at I would need to know what's regulated in the Geneva Convention."

Vogt looked around the hallway, seemingly to make sure no one was watching him. Then he grabbed into his uniform pocket and retrieved a small black book. "Here," he said as he stretched the book out to Newkirk, who cautiously took it. "It's not the complete Geneva Convention; it only contains the part about the treatment of prisoners of war. It's written in German and English."

Once again, Newkirk was baffled by the friendly attitude of his captor. "Thank ya…But why are ya 'elpin' me raisin' accusations against yer comrade?"

"Because even in war, we have to follow the given rules. If someone doesn't, he has to be held accountable," Vogt said. "I'm back in four hours."

The German closed the door and locked it, leaving Newkirk alone in the cell. Newkirk sighed as he looked at the book in his hands.

 _Treatment of prisoners of war. Bloody 'ell, I'm a prisoner!_

Newkirk sat down on the cot, leaning with his back against the wall.

 _Not like I've never been a prisoner before. But this feels totally different to the cells I spent me days in back in good ol' England. Never thought I would say this, but the prison cells back 'ome are somehow cosy compared to this._

Newkirk took a deep breath before he opened the book. Like he had said to Vogt, there is no reason to be upset about something he can't change. He just had to find a way to escape and get back in England. But until this time had arrived, Newkirk would learn all about his rights. Even if the Germans would not care about their violations, he would annoy them with pointing out their violations.

Getting on people's nerves had always been one of his specialties.

* * *

 **A/N: So now Newkirk has arrived at his first destination as a POW. How is he going to manage? And what will happen to him while he is there? I guess you have to wait for more chapters**

 **2** **nd** **A/N: I would quickly like to explain my portrayal of the Germans; also for future occasions. I have introduced two different characters in the past chapters on purpose. I wanted to depict the cruel German soldiers, who, especially at a time where it seemed like they would win the war in a matter of months, did not care about how they treated Allied prisoners. I'm German, and I'm completely aware of those inhuman soldiers. (But just as a side note, the other war belligerents were not necessarily always the good people either.) However, because I'm German, I also want to show that not all Germans were Nazis, and not all violated the rights off Allied soldiers. A lot of Wehrmacht soldiers simply fought in the war because they were conscripted and because the Nazi propaganda said that they had to defend their home country. Not all wanted the war, and many followed the rules; or tried to, at least. You will see this contradicting characters in future chapters too.**


	21. Chapter 21

" _ **Everything I do, I do it for you." – Bryan Adams**_

 _Oberursel, Germany, the next day_

Newkirk was lying on the cot in the small cell, looking at the picture of his wife Lilian. He took off his flying suit shortly after Vogt had brought him in the cell yesterday; which was quite difficult with the limited mobility he had resulting from his bruised ribs. But somehow, he had managed and now he used the blue flying suit as a pillow. Underneath the suit, he wore his regular uniform which consisted of a blueish-grey turtleneck, a thin blue jacket, blue trousers, and black boots. Without even noticing, he had slipped his garrison cap under the shoulder strap of his jacket when Group Captain Davis had come into the barracks, which meant he was in full uniform. A small laugh left Newkirk's lips; if the Germans would appreciate that he was dressed according to the military protocol? Probably not. But he did not care about that. He could be only dressed in shorts and an undershirt and he would not care. The only thing that mattered to him was the picture of his beautiful wife he was holding in his hands, which had survived the crash and drive to Germany without a scratch.

Just looking at Lilian's smile and hearing her laughter ringing through his mind made the whole situation of being captured not seem so dark. She was his impulsion to get back to England alive, no matter what the Germans would put him through. Of course there was his family that were also a motivation to come back home, but his wife was his number one reason. There was nothing more Newkirk wanted than holding Lilian in his arms again and looking into her sparkling yellow-green eyes. But until his wish would become reality, he had to settle with only being able to stare at her picture.

Newkirk shifted on the cot, which elicited a small groan leaving his lips. His bruised ribs were still hurting tremendously, but luckily, Fischer, the Aryan soldier, left him alone yesterday after Vogt had brought him into the cell. However, that was not the only thing that had surprised him. Since the moment Vogt closed the door to his cell, Newkirk had been all alone; no one came to interrogate him. This threw him really off, because Pelletier had told him the Germans used this camp to try to get information from the captured airmen about locations of airbases in England, missions, and organizational structures of the air forces they belonged to. Why locking him in a room and not trying to get the information out of him?

He sighed and rubbed with his fingers over his temples. That was probably what the Germans wanted; she should work himself up so that it was easier for them to retrieve information from him. Newkirk slowly sat up, always minding his bruised ribs. He would not fall for their psychological warfare method. No, the only thing the Krauts would get from his was his name, rank, and service number. Nothing more, nothing less.

When Newkirk managed to sit up on the small cot, he grabbed the open book that lay at the bottom of the cot. Newkirk took a last glance at his wife's picture before he put it in the book and closed it, using the picture as a bookmark. Then he placed the book under the cot to hide it in case the Germans decided to pay him a visit. It was not as if he cared about the Germans knowing that he possessed a copy of the Geneva Convention; it was Vogt he was worried about. Since the copy was in English and German, Newkirk was worried that the officers might put one and one together, and then try to find out who had given the book to him. He did not want to get Vogt for his friendliness in trouble.

Newkirk rose to his feet and paced around the small cell. So many thoughts were racing through his mind. Had Lilian already been informed that he was taken prisoner? Was she holding up? Has Samuel managed to leave the town? Was he already on his way back to England?

The sound of a key turning took Newkirk out of his thoughts. He turned around and saw how the door was opened. When he took sight of Vogt, a small smile found its way on Newkirk's face and he said, "Good to see ya! I thought yer people 'ad forgotten about me."

"Follow me," was all Vogt said.

Newkirk raised an eyebrow as he walked towards his captor. "Where are ya bringin' me to?"

Vogt waited for Newkirk to leave the cell before he answered. "Interrogation."

Newkirk gulped, but obediently followed Vogt out of the building. The German led Newkirk behind the building, where another building was that Newkirk had not seen before. It was about half of the size of the building with the solitary cells in. On his way in, Newkirk passed a German soldier standing at the entry, who looked straight ahead and not even threw a small glance at him. He followed Vogt through the hallway to an open door on the right side.

When Vogt stood in the doorway, he stopped and smashed his heels together, saluting. " _Major, der Gefangene ist hier_." ["Major, the prisoner is here."]

" _Bringen Sie ihn rein_!" called the familiar voice of the major from inside the room. ["Bring him in!"]

Vogt motioned for Newkirk to step into the room, what Newkirk warily did. While Vogt closed the door behind him, Newkirk stared at the two men in the room, which only contained a table in the middle of the room and three chairs.

Major Rumpel pointed to the empty chair across from him and said, "Sit down, Corporal Newkirk."

Newkirk went over to the chair, his eyes never leaving the two men. He pulled the chair away from the table and sat down, putting as much space between him and his captors as he possible could. For that reason, he did not shift closer to the table, but stayed about fifty centimetres away from it.

"As you already know, my name is Major Rumpel and I'm the camp commandant," Major Rumpel said. He pointed to the man next to him and said, "This is Feldwebel Berger. He will protocol everything that is going to be said in here."

Newkirk kept silent and only stared at the German officer in front of him.

"So, Corporal Newkirk," Major Rumpel began. "You were shot down over the Belgian coast, weren't you?" No reaction from Newkirk. "Which means you probably started off from England. Where exactly?"

"Newkirk, Peter, Corporal, Royal Air Force, 217795," Newkirk gave as an answer.

Major Rumpel smiled. "I already know that; no need to repeat that. But let me guess: you were probably stationed at England's coast. South or west?"

Again, Newkirk gave no answer. The only information that would leave his lips were his name, rank, and service number. Nothing that the major would try, no matter psychological warfare or physical abuse, would get him to talk.

"I see you are a stubborn young man." Major Rumpel looked at him for a moment before he continued, "When you came into my office yesterday, I spotted a ring on your finger. Are you married?"

Newkirk tried to keep his face under control, but the German officer could see that the he was utterly surprised. When the initial surprise and shock faded, Newkirk felt fury rising in him which he tried hard to swallow down.

"Where you stationed far away from your wife? I'm sure you want to see her again," Major Rumpel said. He leaned forward and stated, "You and I both know that Germany will win the war. If you cooperate with us, I promise you that you will see your wife again immediately after the war ended. And I will make personally sure that nothing will happen to you or her."

Newkirk's patience snapped. The Germans could do anything with him; beating him up, humiliate him, deprive him of his rights and bare necessities. But threatening his wife was going to far. He also leaned forward and said in a dangerously low voice, "Leave me wife out of this; or else ya're goin' to regret it."

Major Rumpel smirked. "Have I hit a nerve, Corporal?"

Newkirk leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Newkirk, Peter, Corporal, Royal Air Force, 217795."

The smirk vanished from the officer's face, having hoped for a different answer. He sighed and shook his head, then he rose to his feet and wordlessly left the room. Now Newkirk was the one whose face was covered in a triumphantly smile as he watched how Vogt stepped back in the room.

"Get up, Corporal!" Vogt ordered. Newkirk complied and followed Vogt back into his cell. When he sat foot into the small room again, Vogt asked, "Is everything alright? The major didn't look happy."

"Oh, everythin's splendid," Newkirk said, the smile still on his face. " 'e just realized 'at I won't fall for 'is games."

Vogt nodded. "Just be careful."

The German closed the door and Newkirk plopped down on the cot, reaching for the book underneath it. He lied back down on the small bed, placing his head on his flying suit and opening the book. He took Lilian's picture in his hand and kissed it.

"Don't worry, luv. I'm gonna find a way back 'ome. I promise."

* * *

 _London, England_

In Lilian's flat, she and Hannah prepared an upcoming summer celebration at their school. The teachers had decided to put up a show with all the classes to get the children's minds off what was going on around them. Though they taught mostly young students, even they noticed that their fathers left to fight abroad or heard the war speeches in the radio.

To be honest, Lilian also looked forward to have some positive distraction. She had not heard from her brother in weeks and ever since she got the telegram informing her about her husband's disappearance, Lilian's nerves were raw. She had trouble keeping her eyes open from the lack of sleep she was experiencing and every time she had a quiet moment to herself, tears would be welling up and slowly made their way down her cheeks. All in all, she was feeling miserable. So Lilian looked forward to distracts herself and the children for a while with a nice and joyful summer celebration.

Just as Lilian and Hannah wanted to discuss the different activities during the celebration, someone knocked on the door.

Hannah raised an eyebrow and asked, "Have you invited someone else?"

Lilian shook her head while she rose to her feet. "But maybe Gertrude decided to swing by. You know, to prove to the headmaster how diligent she is."

"Oh, I hope not!" Hannah called after her when Lilian left the living room. "She always spoils the party."

Lilian had to laugh as she opened the door. But the laugh died right on her lips when her gaze fell on a dark-haired telegram boy; similar to the one who brought her the telegram about Peter's disappearance.

"Lilian Newkirk?" the boy asked.

Lilian merely nodded, her mind instantly flooded by every worst-case scenario she could think of. The boy stretched a telegram out to her, which she grabbed with a shaky hand. Then she slowly closed the door while staring at the white envelope in her hand, her heart thumping in her ears.

"Who's there?" Hannah called from the living room, but Lilian only heard it in the back of her mind. "Lilian?"

Lilian was standing with her back towards the living room door, so she did not notice how Hannah approached her. Only when she felt a hand on her shoulder did she turn around, gazing into her best friend's hazel brown eyes.

"Are you alright, Lilian?" Hannah asked, her voice full of concern.

Lilian raised the envelope into Hannah's view. "Another telegram."

"Let's go into the living room," Hannah said. She gently moved her friend into the living room and onto the couch. When they were seated, Hannah began to gently rub over Lilian's back.

"This is it, Hannah," Lilian said with a shaky voice. "It's the confirmation that Peter is dead."

"You don't know that," Hannah countered. "Maybe it's telling you that Peter was captured."

Lilian shook her head, feeling the tears welling up inside her. "They wouldn't send a telegram for that. No, this telegram is bringing bad news; I can feel it."

"Again, Lilian, you don't know that. The only way to find out is opening the envelope."

Lilian closed her eyes and took a shaky breath; then she slowly opened the envelope. Before she looked down at the letter, she wiped with her hand across her cheeks, trying to get rid of the tears that had already found their way out of the corners of her eyes.

She felt Hannah squeezing her upper arm. "You can do this, Lilian. Nothing is as worse as not knowing; no matter what the telegram says."

Lilian nodded and read out loud.

" _The War Office regrets to announce that your brother Sgt Samuel Wheeler died in action. Letter to follow."_


	22. Chapter 22

" _ **I love you every day. And now I will miss you every day." ―**_ _ **Mitch Albom**_

The letter slipped out of Lilian's hands and slowly sailed to the ground while tears started to stream down her cheeks. She buried her head in her hands and muffled sobs began to echo through the room.

"Oh, Lilian," Hannah said as she wrapped her arm around her friend's back. "I'm so sorry."

Lilian kept her head in her hands, but she leant against Hannah. Then she buried her face in Hannah's neck and grabbed a hold of her friend's shoulder with her left hand. The crying intensified and the sobs were louder now. All the while, Hannah had her arms wrapped tightly around Lilian, trying to console her heartbroken friend.

Between sobs, Lilian managed to blubber out, "Samuel…is dead…my brother…he is…gone."

Hannah squeezed her gently. "I'm so, so sorry for you, Lilian. I know how much he meant to you."

"My brother is dead, and my husband might be dead," Lilian said. "I'm all alone now."

"You're not alone," Hannah said as she stroked over Lilian's chestnut brown hair. "I'm here, Peter's family is here, and I'm sure Peter will come back too."

The sobbing increased as Lilian's whole body started shaking. "Why Samuel? He was the best brother imaginable. Why is God so cruel and takes him away from me? He was the only one who cared for me while growing up."

While Lilian cried into the crook of Hannah's neck, Hannah simply held her friend. She had no answer for Lilian and thought the best she could do in this tragic moment was being her strong rock she could cling to. No wise words would help to ease the pain. No wise words existed to make sense of such a futile tragedy. No wise words to explain why men had to kill each other. And for what? To claim land, to show the world they were the most powerful, to fight against this ruthless monstrosity. Decades after the "war to end all wars" had ended, a new war was sweeping across Europe, ripping young men away from the living and tearing families apart. And now, this senseless killing had affected them personally.

Hannah did not know Samuel for a very long time; most things she knew about him she had been told by Lilian. But the few times she had met him showed her that Samuel was a kind man with a great sense of humour. He always lent his ear to you and immediately tried to cheer you up when you were feeling down. Samuel deeply cared for the people around him; especially for his sister. Since their parents were more interested in their reputation and keeping up with the customs of their social strata, Samuel began to take care of his four years younger sister. Until Peter appeared in her life, Samuel was the only man who truly looked out for Lilian. That such a good-hearted man lost his life much too early because of a cruel war was incredibly unjust.

After minutes of crying, Lilian's sobbing slowly stopped. Suddenly, she removed her head from Hannah's neck and with puffy eyes, she stared at her best friend. "We have to go to your flat."

"Why that?" Hannah asked puzzled.

"God forbid, but maybe you have gotten a telegram too," Lilian said. "Samuel and Colin were in the same unit, and Colin is Samuel's second-in-command." She lowered her gaze. "Well, at least he was."

Now Hannah was the one who stared at her friend with her heart racing in her chest. She had not yet made the connection of a possible consequence for her husband. "You think Colin might be dead too?" she whispered, not daring to speak loud in fear of making it true.

Lilian reached out and placed a hand on Hannah's thigh. "No, I'm sure he's alright. But when we are in your flat and you don't receive a telegram, you know for sure. Besides, I could use some fresh air," Lilian smiled sadly.

Hannah nodded, and the two friends rose to their feet. They collected their bags and headed out of the flat. When Lilian passed a chest of drawers in the hallway, her gaze fell on a picture of her and Samuel. He was wearing his dress uniform and smiled broadly into the camera, his arm wrapped around Lilian's waist. The picture had been taken on the day Samuel returned from basic training, incredible proud of serving for King and Country. A bittersweet smile found its way on Lilian's face and a single tear rolled down her cheek. She drove with her finger over the frame as she walked to out of the door.

 _Oh, Samuel. How am I supposed to live in a world in which you don't exist?_

* * *

 _Oberursel, Germany_

Newkirk heard how the keys in the door turned. From his reclined position on the small cot, he looked up and saw how Fischer, the Aryan guard who was responsible for his injuries, entered the cell.

" _Aufstehen_!" Fischer barked. ["Stand up!"]

Newkirk carefully rose to his feet, always eying the German soldier. After the little chat with the camp's commandant, Vogt had explained a few of the most frequent German phrases Newkirk would hear as a prisoner. Weirdly enough, Newkirk was grateful for the help of the German soldier – his enemy and captor! But somehow, he sensed that the German was only his enemy by name and not by character. And at the moment, Newkirk was thankful for any advice that would help him survive until he was able to escape back to England.

Fischer smirked at him, his face covered in an evil smile. He went over to him and stopped a few inches in front of him. All the while, Newkirk did not stop to eye him, though the gaze of the other man made him shiver inwardly.

"How are we feeling today, _Engländer_?" Fischer asked. "Are your ribs troubling you a lot?"

"Thanks to ya, they're a bit sore. But nothin' I couldn't 'andle," Newkirk spit back.

Fischer stared at him shortly before he lunched out and punched him in his side, right above his sore ribs. Newkirk fell to his knees and had to hold his breath as a searing wave of pain spread from his torso. He wrapped his arms around his middle to protect it from the blows he knew would follow.

"I heard that you didn't give any answers to Major Rumpel," Fischer said as he took a step back from the crouching Newkirk. "That's not very nice of you."

"What? 'as 'e now sent ya to make me talk?" Newkirk huffed.

"Not necessarily. But I would strongly recommend you talk with the major. Otherwise our next session might end badly."

"Ya can't scare me," Newkirk said as he raised his head and stared at his captor. The pain had eased a bit and he was now able to breath without too much pain. "And ya and the major are dead wron' if ya think I will talk just because of a bashin'. I endured much worse in the past."

"Oh, yes, I have forgotten that you belong to those who act as if physical pain doesn't matter to them. But you know what I heard too?" Fischer stopped pacing in front of him and glared dangerously at him. "You didn't like it when the major mentioned your wife."

"Leave me wife out of this," Newkirk hissed. He stared up at the German soldier and returned his evil glare.

Fischer laughed. "So protective, but such a waste of time. I'm sure she's an easy lay and already hopped into bed with the first man available."

Newkirk clenched his fist and said, "Keep yer ruddy mouth shut or – "

"Or what?" Fischer interrupted, the evil smirk changing into a playful one. "Are you threatening a member of the master race?"

Newkirk knew that Fischer tried to provoke him into picking a fight. But he also knew that hitting a German soldier could lead to him being deprived of the Geneva Convention's protection. So he bit his tongue and took a deep breath. Then he looked back up at Fischer and said, "I will inform the Red Cross of yer violations of the Geneva Convention."

Now Fischer laughed out loud. "Do you really think I care about the Geneva Convention?" He stepped back and walked towards the door. "But I see that you are too much of a coward to show what you are really about. Pah! Pathetic _Engländer_!"

Newkirk watched how Fischer stepped out of the cell and locked the door again. Only then Newkirk rose back to his feet and sat down on the cot again. He knew that he had done the right thing, but being called a coward hurt his pride. Newkirk only hoped that Pelletier was alright; he had not heard or seen the Canadian since their arrival in the camp. It was crazy, but he felt like there was a connection between them; even though he only knew his name! However, something in the way the Canadian had helped him without knowing anything about him or wanting anything in return made Newkirk wish to see him again soon. With Pelletier knowledge of German, Newkirk was sure they could get out of Germany easily. But for that, they both had to be brought to the same POW camp. And they both had to be alive. Who knew what would become reality?


	23. Chapter 23

" _ **If the people we love are stolen from us, the way to have them live on is to never stop loving them" – James O'Barr**_

 _London, England, the next day_

Lilian knocked on her parents-in-law's door. As she waited for it to be opened, a yawn escaped her lips. After she had left Hannah's flat, who luckily did not receive a telegram, she spent the whole night crying her eyes out over the loss of her beloved brother. Knowing that Samuel was not with her anymore crushed her heart to pieces and left it shattered. And not knowing if her husband was still alive only added up to the pain she was feeling.

After this sleepless night, she now felt the urge to talk with Peter's parents about Samuel's death and everything she was feeling. Ever since Lilian had met William and Dorothy for the first time at Christmas 1937, she regarded them as her own parents. They certainly acted more like her parents than her own had ever done. No matter what was troubling her, Lilian knew she could always talk with Dorothy; without having to hide anything. The elder woman listened to everything that was on her mind and gave advice. And right now, Lilian needed her advice; just like she needed William's. Because the message of Samuel's death not only broke her heart, but it also meant that she had to talk with her parents. After more than two years of silence! The last time she had spoken with her parents was when they tried to incriminate Peter by faking a burglary to make Lilian break up with him. Which had almost worked. Only because of Mavis did Lilian and Peter reconcile. Just thinking about seeing them again made Lilian's stomach turn, yet alone telling them that their son had died! And the worst part was that she knew that her parents would probably blame Samuel for everything and not react heartbroken to it. But before Lilian could go to her biological parents, she had to visit the people who she regarded as her parents.

The creaking of the door took Lilian out of her thoughts. It was William who opened the door, who looked like he aged about twenty years since one of his sons went missing in action. A small smile flickered across his face when his eyes landed on his daughter-in-law. "Good mornin', Lilian."

Lilian returned his small smile. "Good morning, William. How are you?"

William stepped aside to let Lilian in while he answered, "I'm okay, and ya?"

"Been better," she said, feeling how tears were trying to find their way down her cheeks. But Lilian took a deep breath and controlled herself, not wanting to break down in tears. "I came because I need to talk to you. Is Dorothy here?"

"She is in the kitchen," William stated. "I'll get 'er. Why don't ya go forth to the livin' room and wait there for us?"

Lilian nodded and went into the room, sitting down on the brown couch. While she waited for her husband's parents, she looked around the room. Her gaze fell on a picture on the wall left to the couch, which had been taken on Mavis' wedding. It showed all the Newkirk children; and all the men were dressed in their Dress uniforms. Peter stood next to Mavis, his arm slipped around her waist and a broad smile on his face. Lilian sighed when her eyes spotted the small wings displayed on Peter's chest. Those damned wings. Peter had been so proud to show everyone that he was a RAF pilot, to show everyone that he would protect England. And now those wings were the reason why he was robbed from Lilian, why she was lying awake at night with images of Peter being dead in her mind.

"Good mornin', Lilian!" she heard Dorothy exclaiming.

Lilian looked into her direction and realized that she had been lost in thoughts once again. "Good morning, Dorothy. How are you feeling today?"

Dorothy sat down next to Lilian on the couch while William sat down in the armchair that stood right to the couch. She sighed and her face grew darker. "Sayin' 'at I'm alright would be a lie. Not knowin' what 'appened to me Peter is torturin' me."

Lilian slowly nodded. "I understand you. I'm feeling exactly the same."

"Do ya 'ave any news about 'im?" Dorothy asked, her voice full of hope.

Lilian lowered her gaze to the ground and shook her head, immediately erasing every trace of hope that filled Dorothy. "I'm sorry, but I'm still waiting for a new letter from the Air Ministry," Lilian said. She raised her head again and continued with a shaky voice, "But I did receive a telegram yesterday. My brother Samuel is dead."

Dorothy instantly reached her hands out and squeezed Lilian's hands gently. "Oh, me dear, I am so sorry."

Every fight was futile now. Voicing that her brother was dead made the tears pour out of her eyes. Dorothy slid her arm around her shoulder, which made Lilian lean into the embrace of her mother-in-law. She stroked over Lilian's chestnut brown hair while saying, "It's alright to cry, me dear. I know 'ow ya feel; I lost me brother in the Great War. So I know exactly 'ow it is to get yer 'eart torn out by this terrible telegram."

"I'm sorry for yer loss, Lilian," William said after a while. He had no idea how to comfort his son's wife, but he was sure that his wife knew what to do. "Yer brother was a fine and 'onest lad. 'e didn't deserve to leave this planet so early."

Lilian snuffled and wiped with her hands over her cheeks. "It's just so awful! Samuel is dead and Peter is missing. And now I must tell my parents about Samuel's death. But how am I supposed to do that? We haven't talked to each other in over two years. Two whole years!"

Dorothy stroked with her thumb over Lilian's wet cheek. "I know 'at yer relationship with yer parents is not the best, but the only thin' ya can do is go there and tell them the painful truth."

"I don't think I can do that, Dorothy," Lilian said before she snuffled again. "They will only blame Samuel. They will blame their son for his death in a war. And I don't think I can listen to them ranting how Samuel was stupid for choosing the army."

"I don't think 'at, me dear. I'm sure 'at they will be devastated; just like every parent would," tried Dorothy to comfort her. Sadly, she was certain that Lilian's parents would react just like Lilian had described. But she also knew that right now, Lilian needed comfort and encouragement and not someone who was reinforcing her doubts and negative feelings.

"Ya just 'ave to remember one thin'," William said. "No matter 'ow yer parents will react, we will always be there for ya. If ya want to 'ave a small remembrance ceremony for yer brother, we can organize 'at for ya. Our whole family will be there to support ya, because ya are part of this family. And this family sticks together, alright?"

Lilian sniffled as she disengaged herself from Dorothy, a small smile on her face. "Thank you, William. That would be very nice to have."

They continued talking for a few more minutes while Lilian calmed herself down. Then she left the flat of her parents-in-law to head to the house of her real parents, something she had not done for more than two years.

* * *

 _Oberursel, Germany_

Newkirk sat on the small cot in his cell and stared against the cement wall. He just came from another interrogation with Major Rumpel, which had ended exactly like the last one. The German officer asked him about the location of his base and Newkirk answered with his name, rank, and serial number. He tried again but Newkirk simply kept silent. Then Major Rumpel tried again to coax Newkirk into telling him the location by threatening his wife, which Newkirk, to his utter amazement, managed to leave uncommented. In the end, Major Rumpel lost his patience once more and rushed out of the interrogation room. The only difference was that not Vogt but Fischer brought him back into his cell, and the German guard punched Newkirk because of his uncooperative behaviour. Newkirk fell to his knees and had trouble breathing for a moment because of the pain that emanated from his sore ribs, but after a few minutes the breath-taking fire in his chest started to ease. He waited for Fischer to leave the cell before he hoisted himself up and reclined on the cot. And now that the pain had fully disappeared, Newkirk's thoughts drifted back to Pelletier. He had to find out how his Canadian comrade was doing. It did not leave him any peace not knowing if the man who had helped him from the moment he awoke in the truck was alright. And besides, Newkirk knew one thing: if he wanted to survive whatever was lying ahead of him, he needed to have people on his side who were watching each other's back.

He heard the key in the cell door turning and looked up, already knowing who was coming. Every day when his duty began, Vogt would pay him a visit and check on him. And keeping true to his schedule, Vogt appeared in the cell.

"Good afternoon, Corporal Newkirk. How are you doing?" Vogt asked after he made sure that no one was nearby to eavesdrop on their conversation.

"I'm okay. But I would be better if yer comrade stopped punchin' me in the ribs. It loses its charm after a while, ya know," Newkirk said while sitting up on the cot.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Vogt said, his gaze lowered to the ground. "But if I tell Major Rumpel about it, I will be sent to the Western front. I'm not supposed to sneak on my comrades or be concerned about the enemy's well-being."

Newkirk looked at the young man in front of him, once again amazed at how his enemy cared for him. The sincerity in his voice let Newkirk no doubt that the German guard was honest. "Don't worry about me; I'll survive. But don't ya do anythin' 'at could 'arm ya." Suddenly, a light bulb went on in Newkirk's head. "Say, could ya do me a favour?"

Vogt raised an eyebrow. "What kind of favour?"

"I need to see one of the blokes 'at came with me," Newkirk said. " 'is name is Corporal Frederick Pelletier, Royal Canadian Air Force."

"Why that?" Vogt asked suspiciously. "Are you trying to escape? I wouldn't try it here. You have better chances once you're in the POW camp."

A small smile circled around Newkirk's lips. The other man really gave him a lot of advices that could get him court-martialled. The German guard definitely was not his enemy. "No, nothin' like 'at. But I need to see 'ow 'e is doin'." Newkirk rose to his feet when he saw that Vogt was still not convinced. "Please, Private Vogt, just for a few minutes. I only need to see 'at 'e is fine. It's very important to me."

Vogt bit his bottom lip and glanced down, but eventually sighed. "Alright, but only for a few minutes. If someone sees how I let two prisoners talk with each other, I can pack my bags for the Western front."

Newkirk smiled. "Thank ya."

Vogt nodded and motioned for him to come closer. Then he looked into the hallway to make sure no one was around. When he was sure that everything was secure, he stepped out of the cell and opened the door right opposite of Newkirk's cell. Vogt pushed the door open and waved Newkirk over. He quickly crossed the hallway and stepped into his comrade's cell, sighing in relief when he saw Pelletier lying on the cot and staring at the ceiling.

"Pelletier!" Newkirk exclaimed as he quickly walked over to him.

"Newkirk?" Pelletier asked, a confused expression on his face. "What are you doing here?"

"You have two minutes and not a second more," Vogt interrupted before he closed the door.

Newkirk sat down on the cot next to his Canadian friend who had sat up. "I wanted to check on ya. Are ya alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine. A few bruises here and there from one of the guards but all in all, I'm alright." Pelletier looked him over. "But more importantly, how are you doing? You already look much better than the last time I saw you."

"I feel better too. Me ribs are still sore, but nothin' tragic." Newkirk looked down at his hands before he continued, "I never got the chance to really say thank ya for 'elpin' me rest and everythin'. I really appreciated it."

Pelletier waved off. "It goes without saying to help a comrade."

"Still, I want to give thanks to ya." Newkirk glanced at his watch and saw that the two minutes were almost finished. "I 'ave to go back to me cell soon. But before I go, I wanted to ask ya somethin'." Newkirk looked back up and saw how Pelletier looked at him expectantly. "I wanted to know if we stick together in case we end up in the same POW camp. Ya know, watch each other's back and try to find a way to escape back to England together."

Pelletier's burst lips raised into a smile. "Of course we will! I thought that was something that also goes without saying."

Newkirk shrugged. "Where I'm from, it's 'ard to trust people. Ya think it's only natural for a person to behave a certain way, and then they go and do the exact opposite."

"Well, you can trust me, Newkirk."

Now Newkirk had to smile too. Pelletier reached his hand out and the two man gave each other a firm handshake, with that sealing their agreement to look out for each other.


	24. Chapter 24

_**"** **Family isn't always blood. It's the people in your life who want you in theirs. The ones who accept you for who you are. The ones who would do anything to see you smile & who LOVE YOU no matter what" – Unknown**_

 _London, England_

Lilian stood in front of her parents' house, her heart beating in her ears. Never in a million years had she thought that she would see her parents again; yet alone to tell them that their son, her beloved brother, had died! Just thinking about Samuel's death brought tears to her eyes which she immediately tried to supress. And not having Peter by her side who comforted her was only adding to her pain.

Peter.

Lilian had no idea if she was still a wife or already a widow. If the man she had envisioned to start a family with and grow old with was still alive. If the one person who always managed to make her smile would ever put a smile on her face again. She wiped over her cheeks as she felt a few tears running down and making their way down to earth. Lilian took a deep breath and knocked on the door with shaky hands. To prolong the inevitable was no solution. She had to tell her parents about Samuel's death. And if she was breaking the news to them now, she could quickly leave her parents and never see them again.

The door was opened and Lilian was greeted by a surprised Mr. Adams. "Mrs. Newkirk! What a pleasure to see you."

"It's nice seeing you too, Mr. Adams," Lilian greeted, a small smile circling around her lips. "Are my parents here?"

Mr Adams nodded. "They are. But may I ask what brings you here? You haven't spoken with your parents in over two years."

The smile vanished from Lilian's face. "Samuel's dead."

"Oh, dear lord!" Mr. Adams exclaimed, his face betraying his shock and hurt. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Newkirk. I know how close you two were."

"Thank you, Mr. Adams. But that's why I need to talk with my parents."

"Of course," Mr. Adams said as he stepped away from the door. "You know where the reception room is. Go ahead and I will bring your parents."

Lilian walked past Mr. Adams towards the reception room. It was an awkward feeling to walk around her old home that had so many – mostly sad – memories connected to it. And now another sad memory was added to the pile. She sat down on the couch in the reception room and a bittersweet smile found its way on her face as she thought about the few happy memories she had experienced in this house; all of which were connected to Samuel. Just when her grief threatened to overwhelm her, Lilian heard footsteps quickly making their way through the hallway towards where she was sitting. She quickly rubbed her eyes dry before she raised her glance to see her parents entering the room.

Lilian rose to her feet and said, "Father. Mother."

"What are you doing here?" her father snapped.

Lilian ignored her father's rude behaviour. "I'm fine, thank you for asking. And to answer your question, I need to talk to you."

Her father motioned for her to sit down. After everyone was seated, he asked sarcastically, "And what is so important as that it brings you here after more than two years? Are you coming to tell us that your marriage with this Cockney was a mistake and that you want to divorce?" The last part had a more hopeful than sarcastic ring to it.

Lilian felt her anger rising upon her father's unjustified behaviour towards Peter. But she swallowed it because she knew that she could never change her parents' opinion on the man he loved. "No, Father, my marriage with Peter is wonderful. He is an amazing husband and a divorce is the furthest thing on my mind."

"Where is this dear husband of yours at the moment anyway?" her mother questioned, her voice showing the disgust she still felt for her son-in-law.

"Peter is missing in action," Lilian said while she gazed down at her hands. "He is a RAF pilot and he was shot down over Belgium."

Her father snorted. "Can't even get that right. I can't understand what you see in him."

Lilian stared angrily at her father. "You can't understand what I see in him because you have a heart made out of stone. Because all you can see are social affiliations and money. You are blind to real love and kindness; you are blind to every good quality that Peter possesses." She took a deep breath before she continued, "I came here to talk with you about Samuel."

"What is with your brother?" her mother asked, sounding very much indifferent.

"Samuel is dead," Lilian said. "I thought you liked to know."

Her father stared at her, his facial expression betraying that he was shocked. "How do you know that? We haven't received a telegram."

"But I did. Yesterday."

Lilian watched how her father stood up and walked over to the liquor cabinet. He poured himself a drink and began to rant, "Why hasn't this lad listened to me and stayed with the law office? Why did he have to join the army? What an idiot!"

Lilian rose to her feet, angry and hurt at her father's reaction. Though she feared that her parents would not be particularly sad about their son's death, she had hoped till the very last minute that she might be wrong. But now Lilian had once more proof of her parent's cruelty. "How dare you!" she screamed, making her parents gaze at her. "How dare you blame Samuel for having died while serving this country! He died to protect millions of people from the Nazi tyranny, and all you have to say is that he's an idiot?"

"Don't be made at me," her father huffed. "If Samuel had stayed with the office, I could have prevented his conscription and you would still have a brother. Samuel is the one you have to be mad at."

Lilian shook her head. "I can't believe it! How can you react so indifferent to your son's death?" She looked at her mother and said, "Don't you have something to say?"

Her mother only shrugged with her shoulders. "I think your father is right."

"Goodness gracious! I can't believe that the only thing you two have to say is to blame Samuel for dying the death of a soldier." She glared at her father. "For being one hundred percent braver than you were during the Great War. For being one hundred percent braver than you will ever be." Lilian grabbed her handbag and said, "I really hoped you would react different; that you have changed the past two years. But now I see that you are still the same cruel people. Goodbye."

Lilian left the reception room and headed towards the house's entry door. She spotted Mr. Adams waiting at the door, a sad expression on his face.

"I'm sorry for your parents' reaction," Mr. Adams said. "I know that you have hoped for a different reaction."

Lilian smiled a sad smile at him. "You don't have to be sorry. I was naïve for hoping they had changed." Mr. Adams nodded and opened the door. Before she stepped out of the house, Lilian said, "Peter's family and I will organize a remembrance ceremony for Samuel. Do you want to come?"

"It would be an honour to bid farewell to Mr. Wheeler," Mr. Adams answered.

Lilian nodded and left her family's home, tears running down her cheeks that she could not hold back any longer. With teary eyes she made her way back home, her dead brother and her missing husband being the only things on her mind.

* * *

Inside the Wheeler house, Charles Wheeler quickly cast the news of his son's death aside. He turned to his wife and raged, "How can she be so stubborn? Why doesn't she want to see that this Cockney is no good for her?"

"Because her infatuation is making her blind for the real world," Edith Wheeler said. "She still thinks life is like a fairy tale."

"How can we make her see that she has to leave him?"

Edith smiled evilly at her husband. "Don't worry, darling. I already have a plan in my mind. A fail-safe plan that will draw on the one thing she can't stand: infidelity."

* * *

 _London, England, in the evening_

Lilian was lying on her left side on the bed, the wedding picture from her nightstand in her hands. She drove with her index finger over Peter's face, admiring how handsome he looked in his wedding suit. They were not smiling into the camera, but rather gazed lovingly at each other. Newkirk had his arms wrapped around her lower back while she had her arms placed around his neck. Lilian sighed as a single tear ran down her cheek. She had cried so much during the day that there were no tears left to shed.

Lilian stopped when her finger landed on Peter's mouth. She moved the picture to her face and kissed her husband's face, then she hugged the picture against her chest. Lilian closed her eyes and thought back to when their world was still at peace, when the only thing on their mind was starting a family.

 _Please, Peter, come back to me! I don't know how to survive without you. Please, don't leave me so soon. I want to grow old with you and see our family grow. I don't want to be a widow just now. Please, come back home safely!_


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: I'm so sorry for not having updated in ages! But my life is just extreme busy at the moment. The last two weeks I had barely time to write. University started and I'm in the process of moving to my first own flat. However, everything should calm down in the next days and I should have more time to write. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

 _ **"** **Mankind must put an end to war before war puts an end to mankind" – John F. Kennedy**_

 _Oberursel, Germany, the next day_

Newkirk lay on the cot and stared at the ceiling of his small cell; it was the same kind of grey the walls were held in. A grey cement cube holding him captive. Somehow, this colour described Newkirk's mood the best. Being stuck in this cube without any contact to other people besides Vogt and Major Reupel when he questioned him bored him to death. But the worst part was that he had not received a letter from his wife in a week. A whole week without reading his wife's sweet words that always comforted him. Newkirk found it quite strange. Usually, Lilian wrote to him every day, which meant he usually received multiple letters from her at once. And now he had not received one letter in seven days? That did not fit Lilian at all. But maybe the Krauts were keeping his wife's letters from him to make him spill the beans about the location of his air base. That would fit the Krauts. Psychological warfare to make him talk. But Newkirk would not fall for that. He would keep his mouth shut until he was getting transferred to another camp. Then he would try to escape.

He heard a key turning in the door and sat up on the cot, expecting to see Vogt. The heavy iron door was pushed open and just like always, the young German guard appeared in the small cell.

"Good afternoon, Corporal Newkirk! How are we feeling today?" Vogt asked.

"Right as rain," Newkirk answered. "But I would feel better if I get finally transferred to a POW camp. It's gettin' quite borin' in 'ere."

"Major Reupel is still not satisfied with you not giving any answers. But he will probably clear you for transfer in a week or so," Vogt said.

"A week?" Newkirk exclaimed. "Ya want to tell me 'at I 'ave to spend another week in this ruddy cement cube?"

Vogt shrugged. "I'm sorry. That's what he said."

Newkirk sighed and rubbed with his hands across his face. "I know, ya can't change 'ow it is. I just wish ya guys would give me me wife's letters."

"Your wife's letters?" Vogt questioned. "We don't have any letters from your wife."

Newkirk raised an eyebrow. "Wait. Are ya sayin' 'at me wife 'as not sent me any letters? Me wife sends me a letter every day."

Vogt nervously shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Well, I think she hasn't sent you any letter the past week."

"Why?" Newkirk slowly rose to his feet. "Do you know something I don't know? Why should she not send me any letters? She knows 'at I'm alive, doesn't she?" He saw how Vogt lowered his gaze to the ground and asked again, "Doesn't she?"

Vogt bid his bottom lip before he found the strength to raise his glance. He looked Newkirk in the eyes and said, "She doesn't. The _Luftwaffe_ has not yet sent the note to your air force that you were captured. Your wife has only received a telegram from your air force saying that you went missing in action."

Newkirk's jaw fell to the floor. "Ya mean for one bloody week me wife worries I might be dead? Are ya serious?"

"I am," Vogt stated. "Your wife will only get the notification that you are alive when you get transferred to a regular POW camp."

Newkirk clenched his fists upon the anger that rose in him. "I can't believe it!" He began to pace and mumbled, "Poor Lilian. I'm sure she's goin' around the bend right now." Then he suddenly stopped and looked at Vogt. "Ya 'ave to get Major Reupel to transfer me. Now!"

"I can't do that!" Vogt exclaimed. "He's the commandant of this camp and I'm a mere private. Who am I to tell him what to do with his prisoners?"

"Don't you understand, Private Vogt? Me wife doesn't know 'at I'm still alive! She thinks 'at there is the possibility 'at 'er 'usband is dead; 'at she might be a widow. I 'ave to get transferred so 'at she 'as the certainty 'at I am still alive." Newkirk stared at Vogt, a pleading look on his face. "Ya 'ave to convince Major Reupel 'at there is no reason to keep me 'ere."

"And how am I supposed to do that? If I care too much about the prisoners, Major Reupel will get suspicious and is going to question my loyalty. I have already done too much for you," Vogt said.

Newkirk closed his eyes and drove with his fingers through his tousled and oily black hair. He had not showered or shaved since he ended up in this camp and by now, his cheeks were covered in black beard stubbles. When Newkirk directed his gaze back at the young man in front of him, he had to sigh. He understood what he was asking from the German guard was extremely risky. But if Newkirk imagined that he would not know whether or not Lilian was alive for a whole week, he felt a shiver going through his body. He would have already paced a hole in the floor and probably destroyed half the furniture in his fear. No, he had to get transferred so that Lilian knew he was alive. But he also knew that simply asking Vogt to help him would not coax the man into helping him. Because indeed, he had already done a lot for him. So Newkirk had to think of something else.

"Private Vogt, ya are a clever and 'andsome youn' man. I'm sure ya 'ave a bird waitin' back 'ome for ya."

"A bird?" Vogt asked.

"A lady friend, a sweetheart," Newkirk explained. Vogt nodded and he continued, "Wouldn't ya try everythin' ya can so 'at yer sweetheart knew ya were alright? Wouldn't ya want 'er to know 'at ya are alive if ya went missin' in action?"

"I guess I would," Vogt said.

"Well, the same goes for me. All I want is 'at me wife gets a notification sayin' 'at I was captured. I'm not askin' ya to 'elp me escape. I only want 'er to know I'm alive." Newkirk stared at Vogt, who was biting his bottom lip again. "Please, Private Vogt."

Vogt looked down at his feet and sighed. "Alright, I will try to get Major Reupel to transfer you." Newkirk smiled in relief and Vogt quickly added, "I can't promise you anything. All I can promise you is that I try my best."

" 'at's enough for me," Newkirk said. "Thank ya, Private Vogt. Thank ya very much."

Vogt nodded and turned around to leave the cell, pulling the thick iron door close behind him. Newkirk heard the key in the door again and sat down on the cot, putting his head in his hands. He only hoped Vogt managed to get him transferred to a regular POW camp. He did not want Lilian to live any day longer in uncertainty. Just thinking about her worrying about him made his heart ache. Newkirk sighed and went back to lying on the cot and staring at the grey ceiling.

Grey. He began to hate this colour.

* * *

 _London, England_

Lilian was sitting at the kitchen table preparing the upcoming classes when she heard a knock on the door. She put her pen down and rose to her feet, walking out of the kitchen and through the hallway to the door. When she opened the door, Lilian was greeted by a middle-aged man dressed in a brown Army uniform, his black hair greying a bit at the sides.

"Lilian Newkirk?" he asked.

"Yes," Lilian answered warily. "And who are you if I may ask?"

The stranger stretched his hand out while he answered, "I'm Major Williams, commanding officer of the Royal Fusiliers. May I come in?"

"Of course." Lilian stepped aside and showed him to the living room. "Do you care for a cup of tea?"

"Oh, no, I'm fine. But thank you." Major Williams sat down on the couch and waited for Lilian to settle down too. Then he glanced down at his hands before he said, "I am – was – your brother's commanding officer." Major Williams looked back up and gazed at Lilian. "I am sorry for your loss, Mrs. Newkirk. I am really sorry."

Lilian felt her throat tighten. Whenever someone offered one's condolences to her, it hit Lilian again that her brother was no longer part of the living; that from now on, she had to live in a world where Samuel did no longer exist.

She licked over her lips before biting her bottom lip. Then Lilian swallowed down the knot in her throat and said, "Thank you for your condolences, Major. I really appreciate it. Samuel always spoke very highly of you."

A small smile appeared on Major Williams face. "The same goes for me. Your brother was a dedicated soldier who always looked out for the men under his command. When someone had trouble with anything, one could always go to Sergeant Wheeler for advice. The world has lost a great human being."

Now the pain of having lost her beloved brother overwhelmed Lilian and silent tears began to run down her cheeks. With shaky hands she wiped her cheeks dry while asking, "Where you…where you with Samuel when he…when he died?"

Major Williams sighed and shook his head. "I was already in Dover when he left this world." He looked Lilian in the eyes and explained, "His platoon got attached to another group when the Germans attacked us because they needed reinforcements and I decided to send Sergeant Wheeler's platoon. I knew that your brother would keep a cool head under pressure and I was certain he could act as a replacement for their commanding officer who had died in an attack."

"I'm sure he was honoured by the confidence you had in him," Lilian said, her voice as shaky as her hands.

Major Williams gulped down the guilt that was constricting his throat and slowly nodded. "There is another reason why I came, Mrs. Newkirk."

"There is?" Lilian questioned.

"Yes. Normally you would have received a letter, but I thought you deserved to be informed personally. Your brother was shot near Dunkirk, and therefore some of the men under his command managed to get him on an evacuation ship. Now Sergeant Wheeler's body is on his way to London. If you wish you can have a burial at a cemetery you choose. If not, the army will arrange a burial. Of course, a private burial would be much more personal."

"You mean I have the chance to bury my brother? Here in London?" Lilian asked, her voice full of hope. After learning that her brother was dead, an additional sadness conquered Lilian upon realizing that she would never have a grave to go to if she wanted to remember Samuel. She thought he would be buried in a mass grave somewhere in France.

"Yes, Madam. You can decide what kind of burial you want," Major Williams assured.

Lilian nodded and thought about her options. Then she announced, "I think Samuel would like to have a private burial. Not that he didn't honour army burials, but I think he would like to be buried as an individual person on a non-military cemetery."

"Alright. If you have time now, Mrs. Newkirk, you could accompany me to the headquarters of the British Army and we could arrange all the documents for the transport. The body of your brother is scheduled to arrive tomorrow."

"That sounds good," Lilian said.

She rose to her feet and went into her bedroom to get a light jacket and her purse. Then she followed Major Williams out of her flat and building, where she saw a black car parked right in front of it. Major Williams opened the door and helped Lilian inside before he followed her on the back seat. He told the driver the address of their destination and then the car began to move, the drive being held in silence.


	26. Chapter 26

" _ **If tears could build a stairway, and memories a lane, I'd walk right up to Heaven and bring you home again" – Unknown**_

 _London, England_

The next day, Lilian was sitting in Hannah's kitchen. Together with Hannah, she went over some final preparations for Samuel's funeral ceremony that would be held the next day. But mostly she was just waiting for time to pass by. Yesterday, Lilian had agreed with Major Williams that Samuel's body was brought to the Tower Hamlets Cemetery in the East End of London, where she would have the possibility to see him in the evening. Tomorrow morning, there was going to be a small ceremony held by Pastor North during which the attending people had the chance to bid farewell to Samuel. Lilian knew that Peter's remaining family would come as well as Mr. Adams and Hannah. She was incredible thankful for all the support she was getting, especially from her in-laws. It was a shame that her own parents had no interest in coming to their son's funeral, but knowing that her new family would be there to give her strength was heart-warming. Peter's family did not know Samuel very well; however, Dorothy and William made it clear that they considered Samuel a part of their family too.

Lilian took a sip from her cup of tea when there was a knock on the door. She and Hannah looked at each other with puzzled looks on their faces, neither knowing who could have knocked. Hannah rose to her feet and walked out of the kitchen to answer the door.

Seconds later, Lilian heard Hannah exclaiming, "Colin!"

Lilian stood up and rushed into the hallway, seeing how Hannah and Colin kissed each other passionately while embracing the other tightly. At last they broke apart and Colin raised his head, his gaze looking with Lilian's.

Colin disengaged himself from his wife and walked towards Lilian. "I am so sorry."

Lilian felt tears welling up inside her and fell into Colin's arms, who hugged her tightly as she began to cry.

"I'm sorry, Lilian. I wish he could be here with me. I wish we could have brought him faster to the ship," Colin whispered while Lilian shook in his arms.

By now Hannah had moved closer to them. "Let us bring her in the living room."

The three went into the living room and Hannah and Lilian sat down on the couch while Colin settled down in the armchair. He gave Lilian his handkerchief, which she gratefully accepted.

Lilian sniffled while wiping her face dry. "I'm sorry," she said. "This was probably not what you expected to come home to."

Colin waved off. "Don't apologize. This situation weighs heavily on all of us."

"I was so worried for you after Lilian received all those awful telegrams," Hannah said, her arm slung around her best friend's shoulders. "I can't tell you how happy I am that you're back home alive."

Colin raised an eyebrow. "Telegrams?"

Lilian sniffled again before she said, "Peter went missing in action a few days before Samuel got killed."

"Blimey!" Colin hissed under his breath. "I'm so sorry. But I'm sure Peter is fine. He's probably escaping back to England right now."

"You don't know that." Lilian blew her nose. Then she looked at Colin and asked, "How was Samuel killed?"

Colin sighed as he drove with his hands over his face. "After the Germans attacked us, we got the order to retreat Dunkirk to await evacuation. Eventually we reached a suburb from Dunkirk; about 5 kilometres away from the city. Suddenly shots were fired at us and we all went for cover. Except Samuel." Colin stopped for a moment, images of his best friend lying motionless on the ground entering his mind. "I ran to him and pulled him into cover. There I saw that he was wounded badly. Together with two comrades, I dragged him over a field road to Dunkirk while the others covered us. After some time, we reached Dunkirk and managed to get Samuel on an evacuation ship. There he died." Colin looked at Lilian and said, "The doctors tried everything they could to save Samuel. But his wounds were too severe."

Lilian nodded, silent tears starting to run down her cheeks again. "Was he…was he in a lot of pain?"

"No," Colin lied. It was already hard enough for Lilian to have lost her brother. It was a pain that would never go away. He did not have to add further anguish by telling Lilian the truth. No, in this situation, she needed comfort rather than sorrow. "After he was shot, Samuel was immediately in shock. The shock numbed almost all the pain. For Samuel, it was more of slowly drifting to sleep."

Lilian wiped her cheeks dry again. "Samuel will be buried tomorrow. In the evening, I will go to the cemetery to see him."

"Alright, I will be there for the funeral," Colin said. Then he asked, "Can I come along today? I would like to see him again too."

Lilian raised her glance at Colin, a small smile on her face. "Of course you can. And I think it would help me if I was not alone."

Hannah rubbed over her back. "You are not alone, Lilian. I will be there every step of the way. Always."

"Thank you," Lilian said.

Silence filled the room, everyone lost in their own thoughts. After some minutes, Colin remembered the promise he had given his late friend and broke the silence. "Lilian, Samuel made me promise to give you a letter in case he died." He grabbed into his inner jacket's pockets and pulled out a white envelope that was covered in a pale brown shadow of dust.

Lilian took the letter from Colin and stared at it. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Colin softly said.

Lilian pressed the letter against her chest, right over her heart. She closed her eyes as she tried to suppress new tears. Then she sighed and looked at Hannah. "I'm going home now. I don't have the strength to read the letter now and I think I want to be alone for a while."

"Sure. Do you want me to accompany you?" Hannah asked.

"That's not necessary." Lilian smiled softly at her friend and said, "Enjoy your time with your husband."

"Alright. We will meet you in front of the cemetery, okay?"

"Okay."

Lilian rose to her feet and grabbed her purse, carefully putting the letter in it. She smiled at her friend for a last time before she left the flat, heading to her own home to read her brother's last letter.

* * *

 _Dear Lilian,_

 _If you read this, it means I am dead. I cannot describe how sorry I am that you have to read this. But now that I died, I want you not to cry over me._

 _I died for a good cause: to free Europe. What more can a man ask to sacrifice his life for than for the freedom of a whole continent, if not of the whole world? When I joined the army, I did it because I wanted to fight for my country, for my fellow country men and women, and most importantly, I wanted to protect you. I knew what I signed up for, and I don't regret it. So please, don't be sad thinking about me. Smile at all the happy memories we have together. Playing together in the garden or at the pond with Percy. All our little fights that ended with us laughing until our eyes were watery. Whenever you think of me, I want you to think of me smiling._

 _I'm sorry I won't be there for you in the future. That you have to go through life without a big brother by your side anymore. That I miss seeing my nephews and nieces growing up. But never forget: I might be dead, but I'm not gone. Your memories will keep me alive. And I know that Peter and his family will take good care of you. With Peter by your side, you won't have to go through anything alone. He will always be there for you, and you know why? Because Peter is an amazing gentleman with great manners, who protects those he loves. I couldn't be happier for you to call someone like him your husband._

 _I love you, Lilian. And I'm incredible proud of you for following your heart. Our parents might not think that way, but they are ignorant. You will succeed in anything you try, and I am certain that a bright future lies ahead of you. And eventually, we will see each other again._

 _Until then, I will watch over you from Heaven._

 _Your loving big brother._

 _Samuel_

Lilian started crying again, the letter shaking in her trembling hands. She let go of the letter, the piece of paper falling to the ground. Then she put her head in her hands and cried. She cried and let all the pain and grief she felt for her brother out.

She could not stop crying.

* * *

 _In the afternoon_

Lilian crossed into the street of the cemetery, her eyes red from having cried for hours. Eventually, when there were no more tears left to shed, Lilian had freshened herself up and put Samuel's letter away in a box for safekeeping. Then she had grabbed her purse and made her way through Stepney to head for the cemetery.

In front of the gate, she saw Hannah and Colin waiting for her. She walked over to them and greeted, "Hello."

Hannah embraced her friend as a greeting, having noticed her red eyes. But she knew that addressing it would only make Lilian cry again and therefore, Hannah ignored it. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay…I guess," Lilian answered. "Pastor North said he would wait inside the chapel."

"Then we should go inside," Hannah said.

The three entered the cemetery and used the stony path that led to different plots to walk to the chapel in the middle of the burial ground. Though it was the end of May and rather warm for London, Lilian had her arms wrapped around her middle, feeling cold and sick at the thought of seeing her dead brother. After a quick walk, they entered the chapel and saw Pastor North standing by the altar.

When he spotted the three, Pastor North went over to them. He embraced Lilian and said, "I am sorry for your loss, Mrs. Newkirk."

"Thank you, Pastor North," Lilian answered. As they broke apart, Lilian pointed to her best friend. "You might remember Hannah from my wedding; she was my maid of honour." Then she pointed to Colin and said, "And this is her husband, Colin. He served with Samuel and was with him when he…when he died."

Pastor North shook Colin's hand and said, "Thank you for your service. We are incredible thankful for your sacrifice."

"Don't thank me. I didn't sacrifice anything; it was Samuel who gave his life," Colin replied.

Pastor North turned to Lilian and softly said, "Your brother is in the mortuary. We already dressed him in his uniform and put him in a casket." He motioned to follow him.

Lilian shot an unsure glance at Hannah, who put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Follow the Pastor. Colin and I will wait so that you have some time alone with Samuel."

"Thank you," Lilian whispered before she followed Pastor North to the mortuary.

When they arrived in front of a big door, Pastor North explained, "Your brother lies in there. Take as much time as you need; no one will rush you."

Lilian nodded and opened the door. She stepped inside the mortuary, where she spotted a brown casket in the middle of the room. For a moment, she just stood there without having the strength to move one bit, here eyes glued to the wooden box. Tears already rolled down her cheeks. With shaky legs, she took step after step and slowly but surely made her way over to her dead brother. Finally, Lilian reached the casket, and when her eyes landed on Samuel, she had to gasp and put a hand over her mouth. She sank down on the chair that stood next to the casket and leaned on it to look at her brother. Samuel wore his brown uniform, his snow-white skin being a contrast to both the uniform and his chestnut brown hair.

"Oh, Samuel," Lilian whispered as she reached a trembling hand out and placed it softly on his cheek. She carefully stroked over her brother's skin, somehow afraid to hurt him. Tears started to blur her vision and she put her head on her arm that lay on the rim of the casket. "I know that you don't want me to cry, but how am I supposed to stop myself? You are gone. I have lost my big brother, the one person that always stood by my side." Lilian raised her glance and looked at Samuel. His eyes were closed. He looked peaceful, as if he was sleeping. But it was a sleep he would never awake from anymore.

"I love you, Samuel. And I will never forget you." She brushed a strand of his hair from his forehead. "You would have been an amazing uncle. And I will make sure that my children will know that. They might not grow up with you, but they will grow up knowing about you. I will always remember you. Always."


	27. Chapter 27

_**"** **Do not stand at my grave and cry. I am not there. I did not die" – Mary Elizabeth Frye**_

 _Oberursel, Germany, the next day_

Newkirk lay on his left side on the small cot, staring at the picture of his wife. Ever since he had learned that Lilian still did not know that he was alive, he was too nervous to sleep. Whenever Newkirk closed his eyes, images of his wife sitting in their flat worrying her head off over him appeared in his mind. He could not shake those images off his mind, his heart aching and wishing for him to be able to tell Lilian that he was alive. To hold her small body in his arms and tell her that everything was alright. To stroke over her chestnut brown hair while her head was lying on his chest, whispering soothing words. But he could not do any of that. No, he was locked up in a cement cube thousands of miles away from his loving wife, who was currently fearing that she might be a widow.

Newkirk heard a key turning in his cell door and quickly put the picture away in his inner jacket pocket. He was wondering who the man on the other side of the door was; normally, no guard came to check on him at ten in the morning. While the door opened, he sat up on the cot, now being able to move again without pain. His sore ribs had thankfully healed, and with that the last wound of his capture had vanished.

Vogt entered the small cell and pointed to Newkirk's blue flying suit, which lay by the head end of the cot. "Put your suit on or carry it with you," he ordered.

"Why?" Newkirk asked.

"You're being transferred to a regular POW camp."

Newkirk's face lit up. "Really?"

Vogt nodded. "Yes. Now put on your suit or take it with you. The truck leaves in ten minutes."

Faster than the speed of light, Newkirk was dressed in his blue flying suit. He pulled out the black book containing the Geneva Convention from under the cot and walked over to Vogt, stretching the book out to him. " 'ere, take it. I don't need it anymore."

"Are you sure?" Vogt asked, hesitantly grabbing the book.

"Yes, mate. I know everythin' I need to know. Besides, the commandant of the POW camp surely will be suspicious why I possess the Geneva Convention written in both English **and** German," Newkirk explained.

"Alright," Vogt said as he slipped the book into his coat pocket. "Follow me."

Newkirk followed the German guard out of the building containing the cells. They walked to the compound where the trucks had left them about a week ago when they had first arrived in the camp. Newkirk saw three deployment trucks lined up in the middle of the compound.

Vogt led him to the second truck. He pointed to the back and said, "Inside."

Newkirk climbed into the truck and had to smile when his eyes landed on his Canadian friend. He plopped down next to him and said, "Good seein' ya, mate."

"Same goes for me, Newkirk," Pelletier answered. He stretched his legs out and sighed, "Finally we're getting out of here. I started getting bored in my small cell."

Newkirk looked around in the back of the truck. With them were eight other airmen, but he did not recognize any of them. He leaned closer to Pelletier and whispered, "Do ya think we'll all be brought to the same POW camp? And do ya think more might be comin'? The chaps 'at were brought with us are missin'."

"I think we all are going to the same camp. And I think the airmen that came with us will be brought to a different camp," Pelletier said.

"Why do ya think 'at?" Newkirk questioned.

"I overheard a conversation," Pelletier answered. He tilted his head in the direction of a German guard standing by the truck. "He explained to another guard that we'll be brought to a camp called Stalag 13. The other trucks are heading to Stalags 5 and 9. My guess is, they separate groups that came to this camp together to minimize the risk of early escapes. You know, when the soldiers don't know each other, it's less likely that they plan an escape together."

"Makes sense. Seems like we're lucky 'at we're goin' to the same camp," Newkirk said.

"Seems so."

They stopped talking and observed their surroundings while Newkirk anxiously awaited their transport. If it was up to him, he could not await his arrival at the new camp, since it meant that his wife would get the notification that he was alive. Besides, Vogt had said that it would be much easier to escape from a regular POW camp. And Newkirk was eager to escape back to England.

Two German guards climbed into the truck and sat down right by the opening. One of the guards looked at them and barked, "No talking!" before he started a conversation with his comrade. Newkirk heard the engine starting and seconds later, the truck started moving. He watched out of the back and saw how they drove out of the camp, the other two trucks staying behind. Then Newkirk shifted his gaze down at his hands as he began to play with his silver wedding ring. Just like he always did when he was nervous.

* * *

 _London, England_

Unknowingly to Lilian, while her husband was brought to his next destination, she stood in the cemetery and bid farewell to her brother. And the weather did not fit the occasion at all. The sun was shining, creating a comfortable warmth for the last day of May, and the birds in the trees were singing joyful tunes. Because of this beautiful day, Pastor North had decided to move the burial ceremony to Samuel's grave. He hoped that being outside and not in the church would help Lilian a bit to get through the funeral.

There was a tree right next to Samuel's grave that provided shade and accommodated a whole family of birds. They were chirping loud and happily while underneath them a life was put to rest. Lilian was clinging to her mother-in-law for support, fearing that her knees might give in. On her left side stood Hannah, also close for support. Next to the two women were their husbands as well as the rest of the Newkirk family. Mr. Adams and Major Williams had come too.

Lilian heard barely any word Pastor North was speaking. She was too wrapped up in trying to process that she was attending her beloved brother's funeral. She only stared at the brown casket in front of her while she leaned more into Dorothy's supporting embrace.

" _We gathered here today to bid farewell Samuel Wheeler…He was a brave young man who sacrificed his life for our freedom…Cared deeply for the people around him…Especially his sister Lilian…The big number of people who are here to say goodbye show how much he was loved…His soul met the Almighty Father…He rests in Heaven and watches over those he has left behind…And one day, we will meet him again."_

The funeral went by in a blur. Suddenly, she felt Dorothy gently squeezing her arm and taking her out of her thoughts.

"The funeral is over," Dorothy softly said.

Lilian looked past her mother-in-law and saw how four men went to work on getting her brother's casket into the already dug-out grave.

"Let us go 'ome. There is some cake and tea to comfort ya," Dorothy continued.

Lilian only nodded, and together with her parents-in-law as well as Hannah and Colin, she made her way to the place her husband grew up in.

* * *

 _Stalag 13, Hammelburg, Germany_

After a couple of hours of driving through the German country side, the truck finally drove into another camp and came to a stop. The two German soldiers jumped out of the truck and then barked at the prisoners to follow them. When Newkirk emerged from the back of the truck and lined up, he took a look at his surroundings. This camp was huge; especially compared to the Dulag he had spent the past week in. Right next to the truck was a big building with a small porch and cross from it were multiple barracks. And everything was surrounded by a barbed-wire fence. While Newkirk waited for the next order, he saw how the Allied prisoners in the compound stopped what they were doing and watched him and the other new arrivals; something he did not like at all. He felt like sitting ducks just waiting to be shot by the hunter.

Eventually, they were ordered to go into the big building with the porch. Newkirk followed the line-up through the secretary's office and into the room behind her; probably the office of the camp commandant. When Newkirk's eyes landed on the man behind a big desk, he tried his hardest to not laugh. In front of him sat an almost bald guy with a monocle. Never in his life had he seen anything more pathetic than this guy.

The two German guards left the office and the bald guy said, "Hello, gentlemen. My name is _Oberst_ Wilhelm Klink and I am the commandant of Stalag 13. For you, the war is over. Germany has conquered almost all of Europe with its _Blitzkrieg_ and soon France will surrender too. You should just get used to the fact that Germany will win this war. Very soon. And while we are waiting for the inevitable to happen, you can say hello to being a prisoner of the master race. Since its construction, no prisoner was able to escape Stalag 13; and you won't be an exception." He searched for a pen and a piece of paper. "Now, I want your name, rank, and service number."

One by one the airmen identified themselves. When Klink was finished writing down everything, he looked back up at the prisoners in front of him. "Outside my office will be two guards who will lead you to the delousing station. There we will make sure that you don't bring any parasites with you. Then you will be assigned to your barracks. Dismissed!"

Newkirk shuffled outside with the other men, where they were immediately greeted by two new German soldiers. They said something in German, which no one except Pelletier understood. But it was clear that they ordered the prisoners to follow them.

While they trotted across the compound, Newkirk looked to the ground, lost in his thoughts.

 _Germany winnin' the war? My arse! Before ya know it, the UK and its Allies will 'ave Germany beggin' for mercy. And if this bald guy thinks I will just sit around and stare into space, 'e will get the shock of 'is life. I'm out of 'ere faster than 'e can say "Blitzkrieg"!_


	28. Chapter 28

_**"** **Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up." – Neil Gaiman**_

 _Stalag 13, Germany_

Newkirk sat on his bunk and watched his surroundings. He was occupying the top bunk right next to the barracks door, which gave him a perfect look-out spot. It had been two days since his arrival at the POW camp; two days in a stinking rat hole. Newkirk had spent most of his time observing the people he shared the barracks with from his bunk bed as well as the German guards he encountered.

There had been eight men in the barracks when he and Pelletier arrived. The highest-ranking of them and at the same time barracks chief was Flight Sergeant Anson. He was a tall man with blond hair and beard and blue eyes. Because of his accent, Newkirk figured that Anson was born in southern England. Right after Newkirk had arrived in the barracks, the tall man greeted him nicely and explained to him the basics about life in a POW camp.

Sergeant Kelly was a heavy Scotsman with an even heavier Scottish accent. From an early age on, Newkirk had been good with accents; whether figuring out where someone was from or imitating accents after only having heard it once. But the Scottish accents was his weak point. No matter how hard he tried, he could not understand it. However, he understood one thing about Kelly right away: he was acting as if he was the camp's father. Something Newkirk found rather awkward. He never liked to share his feelings with strangers; especially not to someone who acted like his father even though he was only five years older than him. So Newkirk decided to keep his distance to Kelly until he had figured out the reason for the Scot's fatherly behaviour.

Sergeant Bennett was Anson's right hand. He helped him settle arguments between the men to maintain a peaceful atmosphere in the barracks. Bennett also acted like a runner between the prisoner's barracks, of which there existed twelve in the camp. What kind of messages he delivered Newkirk had not yet figured out. But he was determined to do so.

The other airmen in the barracks were Lance Corporal Addison, Corporal Lloyd, Sergeant Slim, Corporal Saunders, and Lance Corporal Martin. All of them were around Newkirk's age and came from all over the United Kingdom. Newkirk had not yet talked to them a lot, but it seemed like all of them were decent chaps. Of course, he did not trust any of them. Yet. Growing up in Stepney had taught Newkirk that one should not trust people easily.

And in the morning, a new prisoner arrived; the first one not from the UK. It was a small Frenchman named Louis LeBeau. After he had come from the delousing station and after Anson's welcome talk, he immediately retreated to his bunk and refused to talk to anyone. Newkirk would definitely keep an eye on him.

However, the past two days had shown Newkirk why no prisoner had ever escaped from here: and the camp commandant was not the reason. Otherwise, he would be sure that the duration of his stay was only a matter of time and opportunity. But now Newkirk was not so sure anymore that he would escape quickly. Colonel Klink might be the official camp commandant, but running the camp was someone else: his aide Captain Lange. Lange was responsible for the guards and pretty much everything connected to making sure that the camp was escape-proof. Together with Sergeant Lorenz, the sergeant of the guard, he made sure that the guards watched over everything the prisoners did and if necessary, implement punishments. Though he had been a guest of Stalag 13 only for a short time, Newkirk had already made out the toughest guards, which were most likely to prevent a possible escape of his. Next to Lange and Lorenz, Sergeant Peters and Sergeant Braun made sure that no prisoner escaped. And there was one other guard: Sergeant Weber, the barracks guard of Newkirk's barracks.

Newkirk knew that he needed a bullet-proof plan to successfully escape. And he had the feeling that for that, he needed to find out what kind of messages Bennett was distributing among the barracks.

* * *

 _London, England_

It had been twelve o'clock when a knock on the door interrupted Lilian's cleaning of the flat. Now, fifteen minutes after the knock, she found herself knocking on her best friend's door.

The door opened and when Hannah caught sigh of her friend, she smiled. "Hey, Lilian! What's up?"

Lilian held a white envelope up. "Another letter from the Air Ministry."

Hannah's smile softened as she invited Lilian in. The two friends went into the living room and sat down on the couch; the place they had opened the last letter from the Air Ministry.

"Where's Colin?" Lilian asked while she opened the envelope with shaky hands.

"He's at the Army headquarters. He'll be informed on what the next task of his unit will be," Hannah answered. "He should be back any minute."

Lilian only nodded as she pulled out the letter. Her hands shook more and her heartbeat got faster while she stared at the piece of paper in her hands. Then she felt an arm wrapping around her back and a gentle squeeze on her lower arm.

"I know that the last days brought terrible news, but I have a feeling that this letter brings good news," Hannah comforted her.

Lilian took a deep breath before she unfolded the letter. She focused her gaze on the written words in her hands and read out aloud.

" _Dear Mrs. Newkirk,_

 _The Air Ministry wants to inform you that your husband, Cpl Peter Newkirk, who went missing in action on 23_ _rd_ _May, 1940, was captured and brought to German prisoner of war camp. He is alive and healthy. We cannot tell you the name of the camp your husband is held in. For mail delivery, please send the letters/packages to the following address with your husband's name, rank, and serial number and the note that your husband is a prisoner of war._

 _Kind regards and may God bless you!_

 _Harold Macmillan_

 _Secretary of State for Air"_

Lilian looked up at Hannah and whispered, "Peter's alive." As soon as the words left Lilian's mouth, she began to cry tears of joy and relief.

Hannah pulled her close in a tight embrace and rubbed over her back. "You see, I told you that Peter was alive. And now you have the confirmation you need to stop worrying your head off."

In that moment, the flat door was opened and Colin entered his home. But the sounds of crying and sobbing pulled him towards his living room with a confused look at his face. With a raised eyebrow, he looked at his wife when he saw her holding her best friend.

"Peter's alive," Hannah informed him.

"Thank God!" Colin exclaimed.

Lilian removed her head from her friend's shoulder and wiped her cheeks dry. "I know that he was captured by the enemy, but I can't deny that I'm happy. At least he is alive; that's all that matters."

"I'm happy for you," Colin said as he sat down in the armchair.

"What are your orders?" Hannah asked, one arm still slung around Lilian.

"I'm on leave for the next two weeks. Then I will see what comes next," Colin answered.

Lilian sniffled while she rose to her feet. "I think I should leave now and tell Peter's parents the great news."

Hannah nodded and brought her friend to the door. The two women hugged and then Lilian made her way to her parents-in-law with a smile on her face; the first smile that covered her face for what seemed like an eternity.


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: The following chapter is almost completely made up of an extract of a speech held by Winston Churchill, known as "We Shall Fight on the Beaches". For those of you who are not interested in historical speeches, you can skip this chapter. You won't miss anything important to understand the story. To all the others, enjoy this amazing piece of rhetorical art.**

 **2** **nd** **A/N: The reason why I included this speech is that I love Winston Churchill's speeches. They are a rhetorical masterpiece and gave a lot of British people hope in these dark times. I just wanted to pay tribute to that. Also, I think it's a great way to give some sort of orientation in which time of the war we are currently in.**

* * *

" _ **We shall defend our island, whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender" – Winston Churchill**_

 _London, England, June 4, 1940_

After a long day at work, Lilian sat in her kitchen and drank a cup of tea. In front of her on the table lay a white piece of paper and a pen. With all the painful confusion of the past days, she had totally forgotten to inform Percy, Samuel's best friend, of her brother's death. And today she intended to write this difficult letter. In the background, the BBC was playing. Just as Lilian was about to start writing, an announcement on the radio caught her full attention.

" _This is BBC News on this Tuesday evening, June 4_ _th_ _, 1940. Today, our Prime Minister held a speech in front of the House of Commons. He explained to the parliament the course of the British Expeditionary Force's evacuation and how the future might look like. Hereafter an extract of the Prime Minister's speech."_

" _I have said this armored scythe-stroke almost reached Dunkirk-almost but not quite._ _Boulogne and Calais were the scenes of desperate fighting. The Guards defended Boulogne for a while and were then withdrawn by orders from this country. The Rifle Brigade, the 60th Rifles, and the Queen Victoria's Rifles, with a battalion of British tanks and 1,000 Frenchmen, in all about four thousand strong, defended Calais to the last. The British Brigadier was given an hour to surrender. He spurned the offer, and four days of intense street fighting passed before silence reigned over Calais, which marked the end of a memorable resistance. Only 30 unwounded survivors were brought off by the Navy, and we do not know the fate of their comrades. Their sacrifice, however, was not in vain. At least two armored divisions, which otherwise would have been turned against the British Expeditionary Force, had to be sent to overcome them. They have added another page to the glories of the light divisions, and the time gained enabled the Graveline water lines to be flooded and to be held by the French troops._

 _Thus it was that the port of Dunkirk was kept open. When it was found impossible for the Armies of the north to reopen their communications to Amiens with the main French Armies, only one choice remained. It seemed, indeed, forlorn. The Belgian, British and French Armies were almost surrounded. Their sole line of retreat was to a single port and to its neighboring beaches. They were pressed on every side by heavy attacks and far outnumbered in the air._

 _When, a week ago today, I asked the House to fix this afternoon as the occasion for a statement, I feared it would be my hard lot to announce the greatest military disaster in our long history. I thought-and some good judges agreed with me-that perhaps 20,000 or 30,000 men might be re-embarked. But it certainly seemed that the whole of the French First Army and the whole of the British Expeditionary Force north of the Amiens-Abbeville gap would be broken up in the open field or else would have to capitulate for lack of food and ammunition. These were the hard and heavy tidings for which I called upon the House and the nation to prepare themselves a week ago. The whole root and core and brain of the British Army, on which and around which we were to build, and are to build, the great British Armies in the later years of the war, seemed about to perish upon the field or to be led into an ignominious and starving captivity._

 _That was the prospect a week ago. But another blow which might well have proved final was yet to fall upon us. The King of the Belgians had called upon us to come to his aid. Had not this Ruler and his Government severed themselves from the Allies, who rescued their country from extinction in the late war, and had they not sought refuge in what was proved to be a fatal neutrality, the French and British Armies might well at the outset have saved not only Belgium but perhaps even Poland. Yet at the last moment, when Belgium was already invaded, King Leopold called upon us to come to his aid, and even at the last moment we came. He and his brave, efficient Army, nearly half a million strong, guarded our left flank and thus kept open our only line of retreat to the sea. Suddenly, without prior consultation, with the least possible notice, without the advice of his Ministers and upon his own personal act, he sent a plenipotentiary to the German Command, surrendered his Army, and exposed our whole flank and means of retreat. […]_

 _Meanwhile, the Royal Navy, with the willing help of countless merchant seamen, strained every nerve to embark the British and Allied troops; 220 light warships and 650 other vessels were engaged. They had to operate upon the difficult coast, often in adverse weather, under an almost ceaseless hail of bombs and an increasing concentration of artillery fire. Nor were the seas, as I have said, themselves free from mines and torpedoes. It was in conditions such as these that our men carried on, with little or no rest, for days and nights on end, making trip after trip across the dangerous waters, bringing with them always men whom they had rescued. The numbers they have brought back are the measure of their devotion and their courage. The hospital ships, which brought off many thousands of British and French wounded, being so plainly marked were a special target for Nazi bombs; but the men and women on board them never faltered in their duty._

 _Meanwhile, the Royal Air Force, which had already been intervening in the battle, so far as its range would allow, from home bases, now used part of its main metropolitan fighter strength, and struck at the German bombers and at the fighters which in large numbers protected them. This struggle was protracted and fierce. Suddenly the scene has cleared, the crash and thunder has for the moment-but only for the moment-died away. A miracle of deliverance, achieved by valor, by perseverance, by perfect discipline, by faultless service, by resource, by skill, by unconquerable fidelity, is manifest to us all. The enemy was hurled back by the retreating British and French troops. He was so roughly handled that he did not hurry their departure seriously. The Royal Air Force engaged the main strength of the German Air Force, and inflicted upon them losses of at least four to one; and the Navy, using nearly 1,000 ships of all kinds, carried over 335,000 men, French and British, out of the jaws of death and shame, to their native land and to the tasks which lie immediately ahead. We must be very careful not to assign to this deliverance the attributes of a victory. Wars are not won by evacuations. But there was a victory inside this deliverance, which should be noted. It was gained by the Air Force. Many of our soldiers coming back have not seen the Air Force at work; they saw only the bombers which escaped its protective attack. They underrate its achievements. I have heard much talk of this; that is why I go out of my way to say this. […]_

 _Nevertheless, our thankfulness at the escape of our Army and so many men, whose loved ones have passed through an agonizing week, must not blind us to the fact that what has happened in France and Belgium is a colossal military disaster. The French Army has been weakened, the Belgian Army has been lost, a large part of those fortified lines upon which so much faith had been reposed is gone, many valuable mining districts and factories have passed into the enemy's possession, the whole of the Channel ports are in his hands, with all the tragic consequences that follow from that, and we must expect another blow to be struck almost immediately at us or at France. We are told that Herr Hitler has a plan for invading the British Isles. This has often been thought of before. When Napoleon lay at Boulogne for a year with his flat-bottomed boats and his Grand Army, he was told by someone. "There are bitter weeds in England." There are certainly a great many more of them since the British Expeditionary Force returned. […]_

 _We have found it necessary to take measures of increasing stringency, not only against enemy aliens and suspicious characters of other nationalities, but also against British subjects who may become a danger or a nuisance should the war be transported to the United Kingdom. I know there are a great many people affected by the orders which we have made who are the passionate enemies of Nazi Germany. I am very sorry for them, but we cannot, at the present time and under the present stress, draw all the distinctions which we should like to do. If parachute landings were attempted and fierce fighting attendant upon them followed, these unfortunate people would be far better out of the way, for their own sakes as well as for ours. There is, however, another class, for which I feel not the slightest sympathy._ _Parliament has given us the powers to put down Fifth Column activities with a strong hand, and we shall use those powers subject to the supervision and correction of the House, without the slightest hesitation until we are satisfied, and more than satisfied, that this malignancy in our midst has been effectively stamped out. […]_

 _I have, myself, full confidence that if all do their duty, if nothing is neglected, and if the best arrangements are made, as they are being made, we shall prove ourselves once again able to defend our Island home, to ride out the storm of war, and to outlive the menace of tyranny, if necessary for years, if necessary alone. At any rate, that is what we are going to try to do. That is the resolve of His Majesty's Government-every man of them. That is the will of Parliament and the nation. The British Empire and the French Republic, linked together in their cause and in their need, will defend to the death their native soil, aiding each other like good comrades to the utmost of their strength. Even though large tracts of Europe and many old and famous States have fallen or may fall into the grip of the Gestapo and all the odious apparatus of Nazi rule, we shall not flag or fail._ _We shall go on to the end, we shall fight in France, we shall fight on the seas and oceans, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air, we shall defend our Island, whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender, and even if, which I do not for a moment believe, this Island or a large part of it were subjugated and starving, then our Empire beyond the seas, armed and guarded by the British Fleet, would carry on the struggle, until, in God's good time, the New World, with all its power and might, steps forth to the rescue and the liberation of the old."_

" _We shall never surrender"_ , rung in Lilian's ears. No, surrender was not an option. Not after Samuel gave his life for the liberation and freedom of Europe. If the Germans decided to parachute into London, she would fight with everything that fell into her hands.

She owed it to Samuel.


End file.
